A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight
by Opalsmith
Summary: After being told by Arthur that because he is King their relationship is no longer appropriate, Gwen must find a way to cope with a life alone. No longer beholden to anyone Gwen decides to go on a journey which she hopes will mend her broken heart. The story is AU and is set after the breakup scene in Series Four episode Five, His Father's Son. Gwen/Arthur
1. Chapter 1

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin, I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.  
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**Chapter One  
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Their conversation had lasted such a short time. Yet the words, chosen in the hope of letting her down gently, hurt so deeply it felt as though she had been cut repeatedly with the sharpest sword in the kingdom. One phrase, in particular, continued to reverberate through her mind: that she was _'not appropriate'_. The aching pain made her feel sick and feverish, but there was also a growing sense of injustice competing with her broken heart. What was she supposed to do now; how could her life go on when she had lost her love.

Confused Gwen tried to remember everything about Arthur; not just the words, but the sound of his voice and how he had looked. A desperate thought came to her that he might have been enchanted, after all it had happened before and more than once. Strangely that idea made her giggle, almost to the point of hysteria. Then the sensible side of Gwen fought back to take control, insisting that she pull herself together and wipe away the bitter tears that had fallen freely. Exhausted, she sat down at the table where she had once shared a meal with Arthur. That had been a time long before he became the distant king who had visited her simple home that evening. Previously Arthur had made promises that they would be together one day and Gwen had managed to shut out the small voice in her mind that whispered it would never come true. Now it felt like she had been living a fool's dream and it had taken Arthur's words to brutally awaken her to reality.

Unsure what she was supposed to do now that the dream was over, Gwen sought comfort by returning to the mundane chores that were a large part of her life as a servant. Wearily she rose from the stool and put away the pewter plate and cup she had used for her evening meal in the cupboard and placed a spoon and knife with the other utensils that had all been beautifully fashioned by her late father. She let her fingers linger to stroke the finely formed metal of the large serving ladle, remembering with fondness that her father liked to call her his princess. Now that was the only title she would ever have, and Gwen decided that would be enough for her. It seemed she had been let down by all the men in her life apart from her dear father. Tom the Blacksmith had been an honest man, who went by how people behaved rather being impressed by titles. He had been rightly proud of his work and his service to Camelot and look where that had got him. He had been falsely accused, imprisoned and killed on the orders of King Uther. There was a flame of anger that still lingered at the terrible fate of her gentle father, which was deeply engrained in her mind along with her grief at his loss.

Gwen was startled from her thoughts by a loud knock at her door, and her heart could not help but leap in hope that Arthur had returned to say he had been wrong and beg her forgiveness. She had to take a moment to compose herself as best she could before rushing to open the door, only to find the last person she wanted to see waiting impatiently outside.

Lord Agravaine was on her doorstep, his usual smarmy smile in place, only with what looked to Gwen like fake concern flitting across his features. She thought at once that he knew what Arthur had done and had come to gloat. When he made as if to try to enter her home, Gwen chose to stand firm and block his path. The shock of his unexpected appearance was not strong enough to override the distain she felt for him.

Agravaine for his part cursed the serving wench's stubborn pride which left him cooling his heels and exposed to public curiosity. A man of his status did not make a habit of visiting a mere servant and he certainly did not want to take the chance that reports of his actions might get back to the palace. After deciding that it was unwise to simply barge past her, Agravaine tried to reason with Gwen.

"Gwen, my dear, I have a personal message from the King, please let me enter. I'm sure given the rumours circulating about you it would be best that your neighbours did not hear what I have to say?"

"I have nothing to hide, my Lord," Gwen stated firmly, not trying to hide her disgust at the insinuations he was stooping so low to make. She knew well enough that the precise nature of her relationship with Arthur had been the hottest topic for the Camelot gossipmongers for over a year.

He refused to budge and her curiosity about the message from Arthur finally forced Gwen to reluctantly step back from the door. Agravaine then quickly took the opportunity to enter her home, looking furtively behind him before shutting the door. Gwen was sure that he had nothing good to say for she suspected he had been the voice in Arthur's ear that had turned the king away from her. Gwen had seen him in action and was certain that he had done this task with honeyed words; he was a skilful negotiator, able to turn on charm when required and slay arguments with a silken tongue. All Gwen knew was that she did not trust this man and it was more than a gut feeling that made her instinctively recognise him as a foe.

Agravaine quickly took in his surroundings, managing to hide his wonder at how a person who lived a peasant's life could ever have aspired to be Queen of Camelot. Gwen looked at him with a guarded expression on her face as he addressed her in his best diplomatic voice. "I know Arthur has spoken to you, believe me when I say it was a hard decision for him to give you up. I hope you understand that a good King must put the interests of his kingdom first, before any personal feelings he may have."

"I understand that Arthur must make difficult decisions and I'm sure he appreciates your counsel. I am unsure why you are here, my lord."

It should be noted at this point that Lord Agravaine had an almost blind confidence in his abilities to dazzle the female sex into submission. He chose to ignore that his great wealth and status had any bearing on their willingness to bend to his will. Apart from one or two notable exceptions this was a man who was used to getting his own way, so he did not even consider that a mere servant would have a defence against what he had to offer. Let alone give credence to the idea that Gwen might have a mind of her own. He put the recent incident when she had the nerve to question him in front of Camelot's council down to ignorant impudence. In his mind she had simply been emboldened due to being favoured by the King. All he had to do was choose his words carefully and she would be putty in his hands.

"Of course, but this is a delicate matter and I hope that you won't take this the wrong way?" Agravaine had the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable as he finished his speech, "Arthur wishes to compensate you for all you have done for him."

Then his lordship reached for the plush red velvet money purse attached to his belt. Untying it, he held out the bulging pouch to Gwen, all the time trying and failing to look convincingly sympathetic.

Gwen had to fight a sudden but not surprising urge to throw the money at his smug face. Only the realisation that she could not be sure how Arthur would react if she flung his gift at Lord Agravaine stopped her from acting. Instead Gwen used her rage to draw herself to her full height and muster her dignity, as through gritted teeth she replied, "I have already been paid for my work as a palace servant; I do not want nor need any other compensation."

"Don't let your pride cloud your judgement, child. You are the talk of Camelot. The daughter of a Blacksmith; a servant wearing clothes fit only for a lady, a servant whose sole duty was to be the trusted nurse to the ailing King over the past year. The only conclusion the people can make is that you were my nephew's mistress; the lover of the man who is now their King. Can you even remember the last time you carried out the _real _duties of a servant?"

With that cutting remark Agravaine carefully placed the pouch on the table that dominated Gwen's tiny cottage. Then His Lordship took Gwen's silence after his damming assessment of her current position, as an invitation to offer her some advice.

"I want you to think what would be best for you, and Arthur. What if, for example, you were to leave Camelot before he returns from battle? I know of an inn, half a day's ride away called The Silver Horseshoe. The owner runs a respectable house and she is looking for a girl of _good_ character to work with her. I have already sent word that I know of a suitable person, so the mention of my name will ensure you a warm welcome. The duties will not be onerous and you won't be too far from your brother. Think on my offer Gwen, it will be a fresh start for you and Arthur."

To emphasis his case Agravaine leaned forward to lift up the money pouch again, swinging it slightly to make the coins held within clatter against each other. "And if you invest this wisely you can be assured of a comfortable life. Lack of money will never be a worry for you, and that thought will make Arthur happy. You know that he owes you a debt of gratitude for the way you cared for his beloved father."

Regardless of the way his lordship's words had been couched to suggest he felt some sympathy for her situation, Gwen knew he wished to insult her; to make his true feelings about her clear. However she disregarded all of that to ask the one question that concerned her most, "Arthur wants me to go?"

"He did not say that in so many words, but you must agree that it can only be awkward for both of you now. Arthur must form an alliance; the right marriage will strengthen Camelot's position in the five kingdoms. If you stay, you will be a reminder of what he has given up, a distraction."

"I see, so it is _best _for everybody that I leave." Gwen said, ignoring her heartache and the lack of respect she held for the man before her, because his words made a terrible sense. Once she had thought that it would be possible to cope with the idea of Arthur marrying a real princess, watching their relationship grow and not bemoan her lot. The past year had changed that. She had spent so much time with Arthur and had come to feel far too strongly for him to be able to stand in the shadows while another woman held the right to be by his side.

Agravaine could not help a small smile and Gwen hated him as he signalled his victory against her. "I'm glad you've decided to do the right thing, and remember The Silver Horseshoe, it will be a new start for you. Now I must go, we have an early start tomorrow and there are preparations to make. Camelot depends on the King and his army to defeat our foes."

"This I know and I have faith in Arthur. He is a good man and will be a great King; he will do all in his power to win this battle and protect his people."

"How very admirable my dear, don't forget that you too have a part to play in the future of Camelot."

He replaced the money pouch on the table and turning, swept out of Gwen's home without a backward glance.

Gwen sank down on a stool by the fire, too emotionally drained by events to do anything more than stare at the bag of money that appeared to represent all that remained of her life in Camelot.

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Lord Agravaine slowed his horse as best he could as it slithered down a muddy slope. Riding in the dark through a forest was treacherous, even though he was an expert horseman and knew well the paths to take. He carried a flaming torch to light his way, holding the horse's reins one handed. As he came to the empty hovel that was the Lady Morgana's home he paused. There was no sign of life because Morgana had pledged to assist the Queen of Caerleon's war against Camelot. In this she was an instrument of Agravaine's revenge just as much as he was her loyal servant. Their shared hatred for King Uther made them natural allies although having come to know Morgana, Agravaine knew he was capable of anything just to receive the smallest sign of appreciation from that lady.

As his horse fretted at being halted outside that dark and forbidding place deep in the forest, Agravaine listened for the drifting noise that gave away the camp of mercenaries organised and paid for by him in Morgana's name. They were an unruly bunch of cutthroats and vagabonds but that only made them easier to buy and they had already proved they could be counted on. As long as there was food in their bellies, enough cheap ale to warm them and the promise of future rewards, they were sworn to Lady Morgana's cause.

Agravaine was stopped by a sentry before he could enter the ramshackle camp. There were about thirty men there and from the light of the central fire he could see they were busy making merry with his money. The sentry gave him a toothless grin and waved him into the camp with his unsheathed sword which gleamed in the reflected fire light. At least Agravaine approved of the care the man took of his weapon though his lack of personal hygiene was unpleasantly evident.

The leader of the mercenaries, Gerallt, also known as the Lone Wolf, had seen Agravaine first and was striding out to meet him. His large frame was draped in various animal furs that still had their skeletal heads along with some pointy teeth to complete the grisly effect. His dirty brown hair was a matted mane and the full beard only partially covered a vivid scar that ran the length of his right cheek. He was the sort of man that no member of the nobility would ever welcome into their castles though they were more than happy for him to do their dirty work. Despite his looks Agravaine knew Gerallt was an intelligent man; a natural leader, and a good fighter skilled with sword, battle axe and spear. He was someone Agravaine made sure to deal with extreme caution.

Although loathed to dismount from his horse, Agravaine knew Gerallt would take it as an insult if he literally talked down at him. He was standing on the ground holding his horse's reins in one hand and the torch in the other by the time his paid man reached him. Agravaine was not a short man but Gerallt seemed to tower over him and he was giving off the impression that he was not particularly pleased to see his lord.

Indeed Gerallt took a particular pleasure in lavishing attention on Agravaine's fine stallion, stroking the horse's forehead and muzzle while ignoring its master. When he finally spoke his tone was dripping with insolence, "So have you chosen to cower behind Camelot's walls while the King and his men ride to their doom?"

"At dawn tomorrow I will ride with King Arthur. My place is at his side, he relies on my counsel." Agravaine replied, choosing not to rise to the bait. As he expected Gerallt and his men were becoming weary of doing nothing and that made them more difficult to handle.

As Gerallt appreciatively ran his hands over the horse's mane and shoulders he gave voice to his thoughts, "You nobles are strange creatures; you say you stand with the young King, your own nephew, while at the same time plotting his downfall and you see no wrong in that."

"Yet you take my silver without a qualm."

The Lone Wolf now turned his attention to the fine leather work of his Lordship's expensive saddle.

"Ah, but we are simple folk, with no airs and graces. We go where the work is to be had. We are not the ones who topple kings."

"Enough Gerallt, I am not here to discuss the finer points of court politics with the likes of you!"

Gerallt finally came round to stand with his master, casually spitting at the ground directly in front of Lord Agravaine's boots.

"Well do tell why you are gracing us with your presence, my lord."

"Do you know of Guinevere, the Blacksmith's daughter, who nursed King Uther?"

"One of Lady Morgana's Camelot spies pointed her out to me; she said that your Arthur has a special interest in the lady. Very comely, she is too; the boy has the good taste not to waste his attentions on stuck up noble ladies."

"Yes, yes," Agravaine said irritated by the Lone Wolf's lack of respect for his betters, "she will be travelling to The Silver Horseshoe on her own…"

"Why would any right minded woman want to visit that particular hornet's nest, never mind how much Lowenna shouts about running an inn for decent folk?"

"That is not your concern; I want your men to take Gwen prisoner after she gets to the inn. Lowenna will assist you, she knows what to do to stop the girl from making a scene. "

"It would seem that you have hatched a plan so to speak, but tell me, what are we to do with this Gwen once she is in our hands?"

Irritated by having his orders questioned, Agravaine could not help but retort, "use your imagination!"

"Ah but there's the problem, my lord, my imagination is going to cost you. We have not seen coins for some time and my boys are getting restless."

This was really too much and Agravaine was barely able to contain his temper, "Gwen will be carrying enough coins to keep your boys happy for a lifetime! So you will receive ample payment if you are successful!"

Gerallt gave the impression he was pondering this offer for a moment and then a slow smile started to spread across his features.

"These are difficult and dangerous times, my Lord Agravaine. What if the girl is robbed before she reaches the inn, or being a clever one hides her hoard somewhere safe. We will have carried out the plan to your liking but my boys will still go hungry. Where is the fairness in that? No, you must pay us in silver this night. You ride to battle tomorrow and as you hope to be on the losing side, what would happen to us poor fighting men then, sire?"

"You would be on the winning side, you ungrateful wretch. Lady Morgana, of the royal house of Pendragon, will claim the throne and all those who have stayed loyal to her will be rewarded."

Regardless of his words and in an ill humour at having been backed into a corner, Agravaine reached into his saddlebag for the small bag of silver coins he had hoped not to pay out and threw it at the Lone Wolf.

Gerallt expertly caught it one handed and with a huge toothy grin exclaimed, "That will do nicely, for now! Good fighting my lord, I like nothing better than a good battle myself; killing is a _real_ man's sport!"

Agravaine was sure that last comment was meant as an insult to him and others of noble blood, who mostly left the fighting and dying to common foot soldiers. As he had got what he came for he could let the latest insult slide for the moment, that and the thought he would make Gerallt pay for his impertinence once Morgana sat on the throne was enough to calm his ire.

Agravaine handed Gerallt his flaming torch to hold for him so that he could mount his horse and before returning to Camelot, reminded the Lone Wolf of his orders:

"Just make sure that you carry out the task I've given you. Remember Gwen must never return to Camelot. I want her to disappear without a trace, so use discretion and make sure your men are sworn to secrecy."

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Weary almost beyond endurance Arthur entered his rooms which were well lit by many candles and a roaring fire. He noted that for once Merlin had followed instructions and was not there waiting for him. Arthur was relieved as he did not want to see anyone else that night, not after his conversation with Gwen, which had caused him such self-inflicted and piercing pain. He stared out of a window overlooking the courtyard below where people were still scurrying to and fro, making preparations for the departure of his army the next morning. Camelot was getting ready for war and the responsibility for the carnage that would result was his alone. That fact should have been the only thing he was concentrating on, but all he could think about was how much he had hurt Gwen. After he left her cottage it had taken all of his strength not to return, apologise and beg her to take him back.

Lifting his gaze from the activity below him, Arthur found himself searching the darkened town beyond the inner defences. The meagre light from lone candles illuminating the windows of the town of Camelot helped him in his search for Guinevere's cottage. His need to make sure she was safe by searching for the light that marked out that her house was occupied had become a nightly habit and was now second nature to him. Although he had made the decision to turn away from Gwen, he could no more stop himself from caring for her than he could stop his heart from beating.

Yet Arthur still felt he had done the right thing as duty was what should guide a king, not personal needs and desires. He may have been born into privilege, but Arthur had been brought up to believe that he was a servant to his people, to Camelot. He felt shame for betraying Gwen's trust by breaking his promise that they could be together, but the bond to his kingdom had to come first. Arthur had heard that time would ease the heartache that made him focus on that particular pinprick of wavering light among many in the darkness. One day soon, if his uncle had anything to do with it, he would welcome a suitable princess to Camelot and make her his queen. Then if his life was not to be one of complete misery he would have to make the best of that marriage. With that mournful thought Arthur rested his head against the cool stone that framed the window and closed his eyes. Soon he would have to crush his feelings for the Blacksmith's daughter, but not that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin, I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

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**Chapter Two**

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The cold light of dawn heralded the start of another day in Camelot as Gwen hurried back into her cottage. Dressed in practical travelling clothes she furtively checked both ways along the street before entering her home - for anyone watching her it would have seemed that she was hiding a guilty secret. However, Gwen's behaviour could be easily explained by her need to avoid seeing a particular person at any cost, Arthur.

Overnight her heartbreak at being rejected by Arthur had hardened into pure anger at the manner in which he had chosen to end their relationship. When she had finally worked up the courage to pour the contents of the money pouch onto her table top, the sight of so much gold and silver had almost made her physically sick. The money added up to far more wealth than her father had made in the whole of his working life. Yet when she equated the pile of precious coins to the value Arthur had put on their time together, the cold metal with which he had chosen to pay her off made Gwen feel cheap and dirty. After staring at her _reward_ for long time, she scoped most of the coins back into the velvet pouch as quickly as she could, as though just touching the coins would burn her hands. Gwen only kept back the small amount of silver she thought would be sufficient for the journey she had planned.

When Gwen had visited her near neighbour, Nester, it had been still dark. Nester was a trusted friend of her family who had been a valued cook in the palace kitchens until age had caught up with her. She now lived on a small stipend paid directly from the Pendragon purse. Gwen had wanted to let her know she was leaving so that Nester need not worry. However instead of putting the old lady's mind at ease Nester had been concerned about her leaving during the conflict with Caerleon, saying it was not a good time for anyone to think about travel. Gwen had hated to be so insistent about her intentions but after making solemn promises she would take care, the dear lady had let her go with her blessings and a worried smile.

The encounter had left Gwen torn about her intention to leave when there were still people in Camelot who cared whether she lived or died. Nester was a good person who had never once passed comment on her relationship with Arthur. Every morning over the past year she had called at Gwen's home to help her dress before the start of the working day. She had laced Gwen into gowns that were a gift from Arthur for tending to his father and which were definitely not appropriate attire for a mere servant. And when Gwen had to stay at the palace late into the night nursing King Uther, Nester always made sure she came home to a roaring fire in her grate and a hot supper. Gwen appreciated that Nester had never judged her, not like the palace servants when they became aware that Arthur favoured her. While the lords and ladies of Camelot ignored the maid inappropriately dressed in finery; their deafening silence more than enough to show their disapproval. Gwen had spent a lonely year caught in limbo between the citadel's serving and ruling classes and she felt a measure of relief that she would be leaving behind the pretty dresses that had caused so much envy and hate from others. They, along with the elegant silver hair clasp which also came from Arthur, were symbols of a life that it was now clear she had never been meant to live.

At least, Gwen thought, she could take comfort from the fact Elyan had visited her earlier on that fateful night to say farewell before starting his final preparations for battle. He was another person she did not want to see this morning. Although her brother had been absent for a good part of her life, Gwen was sure he would have been able to sense she was out of sorts and she knew he was stubborn; Elyan would not have left her alone until he had got the whole sorry story from her. Gwen had told him were she was going in a letter, which had been placed in the family hidey-hole under a flagstone at the back of the cottage. The majority of the coins had been left there as well until such time as Gwen felt strong enough to face Arthur and return the money that she felt devalued their time together.

Gwen was wrapping half a loaf of bread and some cold meat to be packed into her saddlebags when she heard the familiar sound of hooves clattering on the cobbled road outside her home. She could not resist looking up from what she was doing to stare out of the small window next to her front door. Although Gwen only caught a brief glimpse of Arthur as he rode by, she could conjure a picture of the scene in her mind's eye very well. Arthur in his armour and riding his warhorse, as he proudly led his army of the elite knights and the foot soldiers to battle. At that moment regardless of her own hurt, her heart was with Arthur and she wished no harm would come to him and that Camelot would be victorious. The impulse to run outside and let him know that she still believed in him was strong. Then she remembered that Arthur had judged her not to be good enough to stand at his side; condemning her for an accident of birth that she could not help and felt no shame over.

Wondering if Arthur had even glanced at her humble cottage as he rode by made Gwen feel so forlorn and lost; she started to sob, sitting on a stool and burying her face in her hands. Then cross with herself for breaking down, Gwen turned her thoughts to her decision to leave Camelot. The one place she had no intention of going anywhere near was the Silver Horseshoe. Gwen wondered at the sheer stupidity of Lord Agravaine for suggesting that particular establishment which had long had a bad reputation. The whispers about the owner had been heard in all decent homes and although Gwen could not vouch for the truth of such gossip, the mere fact Lord Agravaine had considered it was a safe haven was enough for her to reject that option out of hand.

As soon as she was sure that all was quiet Gwen slung her full saddlebags over one shoulder, grabbed her bedding roll and one of her father's swords in a simple leather scabbard and left her home behind. Gwen needed to purchase a horse for her journey, and did not want to presume she had any right to one from the palace stables so she went in search of Withell, Camelot's best innkeeper and one of her father's closest friends.

When Gwen pushed open the inn door Withell was in the midst of supervising the cleaning of the large public room where patrons could purchase food and drink and make merry. He was a big man, hale and hearty with a round face that was permanently red from all his jovial yelling. Her father who had enjoyed long chats with Withell about all manner of topics said he always ended the night with a headache because his friend was incapable of talking quietly. Gwen remembered that she had always smiled at that excuse, suspecting that the amount of ale consumed was a more likely reason. Still Gwen had never begrudged Tom an occasional lapse as he always worked hard to provide for his family.

"Gwen!" Withell bellowed at her, then spying her luggage, "What's that you've got there?"

Gwen could not help but laugh as this huge personality divested her of the items she carried and started to inspect her belongings with a critical air. Since Tom's death he had fussed over her like a surrogate father, and now as she faced him, Gwen felt nervous that he might not agree to help her.

When he spoke it seemed the noise shook inn's blackened ceiling beams while the clay drinking mugs lined up on their hooks clunked together.

"You're planning a journey at this time, that is not wise my child. Camelot is at war!"

He shouted the last statement so loudly Gwen thought it was a wonder she had not been knocked off her feet by the sound alone.

"I will be travelling away from Caerleon, so there is nothing to worry about my dear Withell. I will need a horse though; do you have any for sale that might suit me?"

"And does the young Pendragon approve of the journey you will be making?"

Suddenly Gwen wanted to be anywhere else as the whole place fell silent and the serving girls and a few early customers all turned to stare at her. Was it possible to find one citizen of Camelot who did not know or more to the point have an interest in her relationship with Arthur? To deflect Withell from further objections Gwen decided to tell an almost lie, something she was normally loathed to do.

"King Arthur is keen that I should go, and as I will be travelling during a time of uncertainty it was thought safer that I have a horse without the mark of Camelot."

Gwen saw that Withell had accepted her answer without further question as he nodded knowingly at her and touched the side of his nose with a conspiratorial wink. Without intending to do so, Gwen realised that she had given the big man the impression that she was travelling on the King's business. It appeared that there was something to be said for having a reputation for good straightforward honesty.

"The King's men cleared out my best horses for the forthcoming battle Gwen, but I do have a small mare that should do you well; she's very nimble on her feet and newly shod. If you agree to hire her for a set number of days I can include the saddle and bridle, otherwise I will have to charge you extra."

"I'm sure she'll suit my purposes, but as I am not certain how long I will be away, it would be better if I bought her, saddle and all."

From the look on his face it was obvious Withell did not approve, but he made no further argument, restricting himself to a loud mutter, "So the wench _is _as stubborn as her father".

Gwen smiled to herself, not surprised that Withell could not even give voice to his thoughts in a hushed tone. She wanted to hug the man who was only trying, in his own larger than life way, to look out for her.

He signalled for Gwen to follow him as still carrying her belongings Withell went outside and round to the back of the inn where the stables were situated. He led the way past the stalls set aside for the animals belonging to guests, to a closed stable where there was only one occupant; a small chestnut mare with a white strip on her muzzle and white socks. Gwen had never owned a horse before but she had enough riding experience to tell that the young mare seemed to be a placid beast and would be strong enough to meet her needs.

While Withell started to expertly fit one of his saddles to the mare Gwen introduced herself to the animal that would be her companion for the journey. Stroking the mare's muzzle Gwen whispered that she was a beautiful girl, all the while ignoring Withell's scornful glances.

"I suppose you'll be giving the filly a name next?" He boomed at her.

As she noted the mare's calm response to the sudden loud noise from Withell as he continued to fuss over securing her belongings with straps to the saddle, Gwen only had to give the matter a moment's thought before announcing, "Serenity, I think that name describes her temperament perfectly."

With that decided, Gwen hoped that one day she would achieve the calmness her horse's name reflected and then the memory of Arthur and their time together would not hurt as much.

Having finished his work Withell gave her a long hard look, "You do know that if your father was still alive he would kill me for letting you do this, don't you?"

"I can look after myself."

"With a sword made by your father and meant to be carried by a man?" Withell asked as he went back to check the scabbard was still firmly attached to the saddle.

"My father showed me how to use a sword; I'm not as helpless as you think."

"I'm sure that was done in jest, my girl, I know that Tom believed fighting and killing was a man's game. However, if you'll promise me one thing I'll say no more on the matter. _Promise_ me that you don't have any intention of riding out after King Arthur like some silly girl ignoring all danger just to profess her undying devotion."

The heat of Gwen's embarrassment rose to burn her cheeks as she took in the implication of Withell's words. Knowing that he spoke like that only out of affectionate concern Gwen tempered her anger at the suggestion she would ever behave like that, before firmly reasserting her intentions, "No, as I already said I will be travelling away from danger, not towards it!"

"Now, now calm yourself, I know you to be a sensible girl, but the thought of war can make anyone lose their head. I have to be sure that my actions won't bring the King's anger down on me, for I can see from the way he acts around you that he truly cares. If only Tom could have lived to know that his daughter had caught the eye of such a man, he would have been so proud."

That comment almost made Gwen falter. She was sure all her father would have wanted for her was a man who could express his feelings without concern for what others thought; a man proud to acknowledge her as his love. Unable to say another word and with Serenity ready to go, Gwen handed Withell three of the silver coins, and mounted her horse.

As Withell watched she turned and gave him a wave of farewell before disappearing from view behind the main inn building.

Withell had taken her silence as bashfulness at his mention of the affect she had on the young king. With Gwen gone he got his first chance to inspect how much she had paid, and he cursed the missed chance to protest that she had given him far too much. He gripped the silver so tightly in his fist that the imprints of the coins marked his palm, as Withell pledged, in memory of his dear old friend, that he would repay the amount in full on Gwen's safe return to Camelot.

* * *

As the mare trotted down the main road taken by Camelot's army earlier that morning, Gwen thought about her journey. She was on her way to visit an old friend, who she had last seen over five years ago. Gwen had grown up with Blythe and they had started work at the palace at the same time. Five years ago a diplomatic delegation had arrived from the Kingdom of Dewnens and one of the serving men from the party had pursued Blythe relentlessly. She had fallen in love so quickly and deeply the thought of leaving Camelot, her parents and life long friends, did not seem to bother her. Gwen had attended the hastily arranged marriage, hiding her concern that Blythe had acted rashly behind happy smiles and blessings for the couple. Her father had not been blind to the worry Gwen felt for her friend. Tom had told her that he was content she would not rush into married life, because she was far too sensible for such nonsense. Gwen could not help the tinge of bitterness she felt when she thought what little reward not having her head in the clouds had brought her.

She had last received word from Blythe a year or so later, after she had her first child. Blythe had seemed happy with her lot and Gwen felt shame for ever having doubted that her friend had made the right decision. Blythe's husband was a fisherman and they lived by the sea in a town called Deawlisc. The letter written on Blythe's behalf by a scribe, as she had not taken to the learning provided for the common children of Camelot in a bequest in the name of the late Queen Ygraine, had still managed to capture her friend's strong spirit. Blythe had said that she missed Gwen and begged her to visit, so now, four years later that was precisely what she was going to do. It was going to be an adventure, and if she liked what she found perhaps, Gwen thought, she might decide to make a new life there. For the first time in her life Gwen was doing something for herself, and despite the pain of leaving, the thought of the journey ahead was exhilarating.

Gwen halted Serenity only once for a last look back at the splendid towers of Camelot before descending the hill that would finally hide them from view. Tears welled up in her eyes when she stared at her home in the distance. Her parents had lived and died within the walls of the citadel and if her life had been different that would have been her fate as well. It was with a heavy heart that Gwen resumed her journey away from everything and everyone she had ever loved.

* * *

Gerallt, the Lone Wolf, was cooling his heels at the edge of the forest that overlooked the Silver Horseshoe. His right hand man, Tobias the Toad was standing patiently beside him. Gerallt wished, not for the first time, he was upwind of Tobias because the Toad got his name from the fact he was so filthy he appeared to be covered in a layer of slime and smelly slime at that. The time was fast approaching when he would have to order the Toad to submit to a bath before he suffered another rebellion in the ranks.

From where he stood, Gerallt had a good view of the inn where he had two men positioned with three more hiding round the back behind the stables. A while ago he had impatiently sent another of his men to Camelot with the sarcastic order to find out if his prey had even left her bed that morning. With no news yet and time a passing he was feeling more and more irritated by the turn of events.

"If this girl left Camelot at first light she should have arrived here by now, that is if she is travelling on horseback." Gerallt mused, unable to help glancing over at Tobias even though he knew the man would be of no help.

"She's a woman; first of all she'll have to decide what to pack, then she'll change her mind and repack, and then she'll make sure she has a good breakfast, then will pick some flowers for her hair, then change her mind again and braid it…"

"_Enough_…great, I've got the picture; we're dealing with a woman. How do you know all this anyway?" Gerallt could not imagine any woman wanting to be anywhere close to the Toad.

"I have a Ma."

"So your mother is always late getting places…"

"Because she is always changing her mind, drove my poor late Pa to an early grave, it did. Of course this girl could've decided to walk here."

"She better not be that stupid, my patience won't last that long. Does anything about this situation strike you as a strange?"

"No?"

Gerallt wondered for the umpteenth time why he bothered discussing anything with the Toad. He might be his right hand man, but only in battle when his foolhardy bravery was a joy to behold as he set upon who ever was foolish enough to pick a fight with him. The problem was that he had been hit on the head and knocked out so many times whatever brains were left in his skull were all juggled up. However as Gerallt couldn't have his men thinking he talked to himself it was best to maintain the charade even if the Toad was useless at conversation.

"I think his lordship hasn't told us the full story. King Arthur rides off to battle and his Gwen suddenly decides to leave the safety of Camelot on a whim to visit the inn with the worst reputation in the five kingdoms, why?"

The Toad did a fairly good impression of a thinking face and then grunted for good measure.

Gerallt continued his musings, "This woman is important to Arthur, and this is the last place he would want her to be. However, our benefactor, the king's uncle is certain she's going to turn up."

He stretched to ease his tension and sighed for good measure. "One day I'm going to be rich enough to stop working for the nobility; they are so devious it's painful to watch. Give me an honest peasant any day, you don't reap the same rewards stealing from them, but it sure doesn't make your head ache so much."

"His lordship is the king's uncle?"

"Give me _strength_, try to keep up Toady!"

Tobias presented his hurt face to Gerallt which successfully stopped the Lone Wolf from the fruitless task of trying to knock some sense into his poor head. Then he noticed a slight boy riding through the trees in such a way as to ensure he stayed out of sight of the inn.

"Here's our Iwan back from Camelot with news of the wench I warrant," announced Tobias, happy to have something to distract his leader from all that useless moaning and muttering.

Gerallt watched as Iwan took his time to reach their position using the forest to screen his movements. Gerallt liked to see one of his men thinking on his feet to make sure that he didn't lead anyone to their position.

"Has the girl not arrived yet?"

Of course, Gerallt despaired, it was all for nothing when they opened their mouths, was he fated to be surrounded by idiots?

"Oh, yes a while back, I'm just leaning against this tree to stop it toppling over!"

Out of the corner of his eye Gerallt could see the Toad vigorously shaking his head and making exaggerated silent mouth movements.

Iwan looked uncomfortable; aware that he had upset his leader and not too sure what to do about it. He was one of the youngest of the group, a petty thief who was good at breaking into things and small enough to squeeze through awkward spaces, but no fighter. He earned his bread and ale by collecting information when he was not thieving. Although he couldn't read, Iwan had become adept at remembering and then repeating every word he heard. It was a valuable skill in a world where most news was passed by word of mouth.

"Just tell me what you found out Mouse."

"Gwen has left Camelot; she bought a horse from an innkeeper first thing this morning. She asked for a horse that could not be traced back to Camelot and told the innkeeper she would be travelling away from the battle. I also overheard some talk that she had gone to visit someone, a friend or a relative."

"If she is travelling away from the battle then she will be going south. Iwan ride down to the inn and tell the men I want them back here right away."

As Gerallt watched the young lad ride down the slope to the inn, he was already forming a plan; an opportunity that could be much more rewarding than their current employment.

"His lordship's plan has failed so I say it's time for every man to look out for himself and I can smell profit in this turn of events. A woman travelling on her own is easy pickings, but this one has an extra value for us, Toad. I see a king who will pay handsomely to get his lady back. He's an odd one this Arthur, knighting common peasants and all, so why can't we demand a ransom greater than any payment we could get from his lordship for the life of a Blacksmith's daughter?

Tobias the Toad gave him a big black toothless smile and suddenly Gerallt felt his day had brightened considerably.

* * *

Sir Elyan had made a fine speech and his knights had all pledged that they would give their lives for him, and that should have made Arthur feel better about what was to come. To lead such men was all he had ever wanted when he thought about becoming king. Unfortunately reality was very different from those childhood dreams of great battles and conquest. Tomorrow the army would march towards enemy lines, committed to fight and give their lives because of a decision he alone had made. Arthur knew with bitter certainty that there would be causalities, no matter the outcome of the battle, and that each and every man slain would rest on his conscience. The problem was that it had become clear to him that the choices he had made to reach this point were wrong.

He had made a terrible mistake that his realm would have to pay for in blood. Killing the Caerleon King was supposed to send a message that he, Arthur, was strong and a force to be reckoned with. He had expected Caerleon to be cowed into submission by his decisive action, not that they would march in numbers to revenge the death of their king. He had elected to carry out the execution personally and it had taken three gruesome strokes to sever the warrior's head from his neck. He remembered catching Sir Gwaine's eye while he trembled in the aftermath of hacking off a man's head and not being surprised to see disgust at his actions reflected there. Not a word was exchanged between the knight and his king, and Gwaine had been as eager as his other knights to pledge himself to his cause, but days latter that one look summed up how Arthur now felt.

Strategically, his army held the high ground, with steep cliffs marking a natural boundary between the two forces. On the morrow though, Camelot's army would have to march round the cliffs to make contact with the men of Caerleon waiting for them below. Once battle commenced, his army would be hemmed in with the steep cliffs behind their position as they fought against a much greater and determined force, fuelled by vengeance. The potential for a crushing defeat was staring Arthur in the face. Even if he left men with crossbows on the cliffs to rain down arrows on the opposing army, all the Queen of Caerleon had to do was make sure the main body of her men stayed out of reach of the deadly barbs. If a Camelot retreat proved necessary there were only a few narrow paths to the top of the cliffs or a long road back to the high ground and safety, which would leave his men on the run while exposed to their foe.

It amazed him that his uncle could not see that Camelot already held the losing position. Lord Agravaine just spouted on about the glory Arthur would reap from his first battle and that he had complete faith in him to follow his father's lead and be a strong and resolute leader.

In the midst of his soul searching Arthur kept returning to the final words Guinevere had said to him. Even after he had stamped on her hopes and love, she had still tried to help him, telling him to be his own man, and to remember he had a good heart. Now Arthur needed to follow her advice, having accepted his misgivings were right. Somehow even with the distance now between them, his memory of Guinevere had become stronger and it felt as though she was a shinning beacon guiding him through the darkness. He knew he must try to avert the blood bath he felt sure would be the result of his folly, but the only alternative he could see was to go directly to the Queen of Caerleon and that frightened him more than any battle. Still Arthur resolved that he must throw himself at the Queen's mercy to atone for his mistake. Only then could he hope she would accept that his regret was genuine and consider the offer he would make to resolve the dispute between them.

"For the love of Guinevere," Arthur whispered reverently, as he took strength from saying the name of the woman he loved and had wronged. Then pulling on a plain blue cloak to disguise his identity he quietly left the royal tent, walking by his sleeping men.

Unarmed, Arthur knew that fate would decide if he should survive the night. All he knew was that finally it felt like he was doing the right thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin, I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Gerallt started putting his plan into action bright and early the next morning. Iwan had been a font of useful information and that helped to narrow the search area for the girl. He knew that Gwen had travelled light; she had not been seen with a pack mule, which sensible travellers used for long journeys. Gerallt had therefore come to the reasonable conclusion that Gwen's destination was not more than a day's ride from Camelot. If his gut feeling was correct, and Gerallt felt confident it was, she would still be within their grasp even after loosing a whole day at Lord Agravaine's folly, the Silver Horseshoe. Gerallt was also able to narrow the search further because he knew she was travelling south, so he could afford to pick those few of his men who looked presentable enough out to check the villages and other settlements, without putting the fear of death into the local populace.

He told the chosen few to ignore the old Roman road known as the Fosse Way, as the first habitation was well over a day away. It was a bleak and forbidding road with stories of ghosts and bloody violence attached to its straight lines. Although it was the quickest road from Camelot to the south, anyone planning to use it would be well advised to travel in numbers and heavily armed. There were many rumours of outlaws who preyed on an unwary traveller. Lone travellers, and especially a woman, Gerallt thought, would avoid that route at all cost.

Gerallt, having discounted himself from the search on account of his fearsome appearance, planned to remain in the camp until such time his men pinpointed where Gwen was. He intended to use this time well, honing his weapons until they were so sharp the metal would gleam with menacing purpose. Gerallt would be ready to secure his prize as soon as word was received. And every now and then, he indulged in the happy daydream of what he could do with the Pendragon wealth he managed to extort from King Arthur. As a rarely used smile brightened his normally grim features, Gerallt thought about the freedom of never having to work for anyone else ever again.

* * *

Gwen realised she had baldy miscalculated the supplies needed for her journey, when breakfast that first morning on the road, was a dried crust of bread, a bite or two of cheese and a sliver of cured ham. Her plan had been to buy supplies from passing traders or farms. However, she had not yet encountered a single living person and was still within what seemed to be an everlasting and forbidding forest that flanked the old Roman road that led to the south. Gwen considered that the threat of war was keeping all sane people close to their hearths. She had used to be one of those sensible women; that was of course before being rejected by the love of her life. Gwen wondered now if Arthur was really worth deserting all she had ever known and rushing off on a ridiculous journey. After her first night completely alone in this great forest Gwen knew that, if she was honest the answer was no, but there was a vein of stubborn strength in her that kept battling with her commonsense. With her sensible side not ready to concede defeat; after a night all alone in a scary forest the safety Camelot offered was not without attraction, even if she would have to see Arthur on a daily basis.

By time dusk had fallen on that first night, the trees of the forest had already started to change form into a twisted mess of strange eerie shapes. While what would normally be a benign breeze, was dancing through the forest making leaves rustle in a way that seemed to herald the approach of a malignant foe. Although she had been loathed to stop in the forest for the night, as the light of day started to wane Gwen knew she had no choice. She had chosen at a natural stopping point to set up camp, a small gap in the trees that contained evidence other visitors had used it for the same purpose. In the middle of the grass was a circle of soot covered stones surrounding the long cooled charcoal black remains of a fire. There was the gurgling sound of a stream nearby and Gwen found she could at least take comfort from that familiar sound, and the knowledge that there was fresh water nearby.

Gwen had secured Serenity by her reins to a sturdy tree branch before quickly collecting enough kindling for a fire while there was enough light left. After lighting a fire, Gwen saw to her mare and left her to graze happily on the rich grass within reach. It was only once the deep velvet darkness of a moonless night had fallen that the worst of her imagination took hold, conjuring up a small army of creatures all around her waiting to pounce. The small fire she had built for warmth and a measure of protection seemed a ridiculously inadequate defence against whatever lurked in the inky darkness. Eventually when tiredness and the emotional turmoil of recent days caught up with her, Gwen had curled up, cradled between the roots of a large oak tree. She lay on a bed roll to shield her from the ground with a thin blanket and purple travelling coat draped over her to keep out the worst of the cold. In her arms Gwen hugged her father's sword to her chest and in her misery tears flowed without constraint until when completely exhausted, sleep came.

The first light of dawn had blown away the terrors of the night by the time Gwen awoke. Her body was chilled to the bone and Gwen felt as stiff as an old woman when she started to move around. Before she had realised the disastrous state of her food supplies she had led Serenity to the stream, enjoying the simple pleasure of drinking the cool fresh water from her refilled pouch while watching her horse sate its thirst. Surprisingly it was not Arthur who had filled her thoughts, but her brother Elyan. As she picked a way between the gnarled trees looking for more kindling, Gwen wondered what her brother would think of her journey. Gwen could imagine his horror as she knew he thought travelling alone on the open road was the preserve of men. Even though he had only been a boy the first time he had run away from Camelot and his fractious relationship with their father. Try as she might Gwen could not see her brother being as frightened as she was of having no one else to rely on. The natural confidence he had was what had kept Elyan away from home for so long, and it was Gwen's lack of self assurance that cried out to her to turn back from this madness.

As she ate her meagre breakfast, taking small bites in an attempt to make it last longer, Gwen had almost managed to talk herself into turning back. Then the sun emerged from behind a cloud to bathe her patch of ground in light and its warmth, and her stubborn streak re-emerged to take control of her troubled mind. One more day, she decided, and if things did not get any better she would go to back to Camelot. After all, Gwen was sure she would not go hungry, not with a plentiful supply of berries and other wild fruits to sustain her. Surely, she would not pass this day without meeting another person.

It was when the trees started to thin out and there was the promise of open ground ahead, that Gwen was encouraged enough to smile and gave Serenity's mane a pat of reassurance. Then she urged her horse on, wishing to leave the forest that had taken on such menacing disguises in the night behind her. If only it could be that simple to shake off dark thoughts that filled her mind. But because she loved a warrior who had gone to battle, it could never be that easy. Gwen could not shake her worries that manifested themselves in an image of Arthur's bloodied broken body, lying beside those of his faithful knights. For all the faith she had in Arthur, whenever he had ridden out to meet those that threatened Camelot there had always been the niggling fear that one day he might fail. So she had always kept watch for him, remaining alone in Camelot with her fears, like a lucky charm that brought him safely back time and time again. However, this time she had chosen to leave instead of keeping a vigil for his safe return, and it felt as if by taking this action, she had betrayed Arthur. Gwen could hardly credit her feeling of guilt, given that he had finished their relationship, but it could not be denied and that hurt her already smarting wounds. The fact that he had dismissed and paid her off was the only thing that kept her riding further and further away from home.

* * *

After riding for most of the morning Gwen finally spotted a small settlement surrounded by with cultivated fields in the distance. The road Gwen was on ran through the centre of the village and if she was lucky there would be an inn or at least a stall or two where she could buy provisions. Then as she got closer, her heart sank when she saw that the fields that were so green from a distance, contained a tangle of weeds and crops that had gone to seed. The first farm house she passed was missing half its roof and the cluster of dwellings beyond looked to be in the same ramshackle condition. She was still within the wealthy Camelot's boundaries, so it came as a shock to see a deserted village in the midst of such a fertile valley. Gwen wondered what had happened there as she passed by the deserted houses with their broken shutters and doors. She felt a shiver of fear as it occurred to her that the state of the buildings showed evidence that violence had driven the villagers from their homes. The settlement was close enough to the forest boundary, and bandits liked the cover of trees to hide from the law of the land. At that moment Gwen realised just how foolish she had been to undertake this journey. Having seen this devastated place, how could she dare return to the forest and all the evil that was likely to be lurking there? Then she noticed movement above the hedge that marked another road that crossed the hill to her left and that joined with the road called The Fosse Way just beyond the village. There was a small group of people travelling with a wagon pulled by a horse, coming towards her and that gave Gwen hope that her luck was about to change.

As they got closer, Gwen could make out a woman seated at the front of a covered wagon in charge of the great horse pulling it. On the seat beside her there was a small boy and alongside them walked a man and two older boys. They also spied her and the woman took hold of the reins in one hand to wave a greeting to Gwen. To meet a family on the move was a real stroke of good fortune given the many less honest folk that she could have encountered, Gwen thought, responding in kind to the woman. Gwen was sure they would have food to spare in exchange for silver, and unless they were travelling to Camelot she might even be able to go some of the way in their company.

Gwen waited at the point where the two roads met until the wagon went round the corner heading away from Camelot, and then halted to allow her to draw level with them.

"Greetings to you stranger, I'm Jenna and my youngest is named Peder," the woman said with a welcoming smile as she gave her little son, who was shyly hiding from Gwen in his mother's bosom, a protective hug. Gwen thought that Jenna was only a little older than her. She was a slender woman with gentle brown eyes and reddish brown hair kept neatly tied back out of the way, and Gwen took to her friendly manner immediately.

The man, who Gwen took to be Jenna's husband and the two older children, in stark contrast, stared at her with hostile suspicion, which left her feeling a little tongue tied. Gwen was puzzled and hurt by their reaction, which she would have understood had she been one of those brutish and heavily armed men that she had occasionally seen hanging around Camelot looking for work. Of course their type of work usually involved killing for money, while she was just a woman looking for company on her journey and posed no threat.

Jenna, blushed with discomfort at the rude silence of the rest of her family, and introduced them while making her disapproval of their attitude obvious by her tone, "This one here is my husband, Colan, and the eldest of my boys is Jory and that scamp there goes by the name of Ruan."

Gwen smiled at each of them in turn as they were introduced although she only got the briefest of grins from the middle boy, Ruan, for her trouble. Then it was her turn: "I am Guinevere, but my friends know me as Gwen. I hail from the citadel of Camelot and I am travelling to the Kingdom of Dewnens to visit a friend."

Her words seemed to have broken through the sullenness of the two boys. Only Colan continued to glare at her as though her existence on the road was a great personal inconvenience to him. It made her reluctant to broach the matter of food in return for money, although the wagon seemed to be well stocked.

Jenna broke the uncomfortable silence with the offer of hospitably, that Gwen had given up hope of finding with the family.

"We are going part of the way to Dewnens and I would welcome another woman to talk to on the road," Jenna said, ignoring her husband's disgruntled expression. "Tie your horse to the back of the wagon and you can sit up beside me. We were about to have a bite to eat and you are welcome to a share of our food."

"Thank you for your kindness; I have money to pay for any food you can spare," Gwen said, so grateful to Jenna for the offer of company and something to eat that she was prepared to ignore her bad tempered husband. She was sure her stomach was grumbling loudly enough to be heard in all five kingdoms.

Gwen dismounted and Ruan, a bright eyed red head with a face covered in freckles was at her side as fast as an arrow. He grabbed the reins from her hands and led Serenity away to secure her to the wagon. He then appeared shortly afterwards beside his mother holding a large loaf of bread and some cheese.

Once everyone had helped themselves to a share of the food, Jenna got the wagon moving, and the two women sat happily together, Gwen asking Jenna lots of questions about her life, which seemed to be spent mainly on the road. Colan was a master carpenter and they travelled the old Roman roads stopping only long enough to do whatever work was needed doing before moving on to the next village.

There were examples of a expert craftsman's work all around her on the beautifully fashioned wagon with intricate patterns carved into the wooden supports. She admired the workmanship and Jenna explained that Colan used the wagon along with smaller individual pieces to display the standard of his work. Gwen knew that expert carpenters were very much in demand and could claim good money for their work, especially from the nobility, so their nomadic lifestyle surprised her.

Then Jenna asked about her life in Camelot, although as soon as she learnt Gwen was a seamstress, she was more interested in the styles of clothes the noble women wore. Gwen was relieved to chatter on about the shape and length of the sleeves worn by the great and good, rather than Camelot, because every time the Citadel was mentioned Colan gave her a nasty glare as he strode alongside the wagon.

Although she was still none the wiser about what she had done to make Colan dislike her, Gwen felt relieved when she was invited to join their camp for the night as she did not relished the idea of spending a second night alone.

They stopped at a grassy meadow beside the road and when Gwen climbed an ancient manmade mound in the centre, she could see on the distant horizon, the dark silhouette of a large walled town under the protection of an imposing castle. Jenna came to stand with her as she gazed out at the scene laid out before her.

"We'll reach that town tomorrow, but we'll be passing through as Lord Wenham is not a friend to the likes of us."

"Oh, I know him, he came to Camelot to pay his respects to King Uther last year…"

Gwen jumped with fright as Colan started to speak, having not heard him coming up behind them.

"You're just a seamstress, how would the likes of you get to mix with nobility!"

As she turned round to face him, Gwen could see from the anger in his eyes that Colan thought she had deceived him in some way. At that moment Gwen knew the last thing she should admit was how closely her life was linked to the Pendragon family. However, she could not deny ever having served them.

"I also worked for the Pendragons as a palace servant."

"Ah yes and no doubt you are loyal to that _great_ family, but then you're just a slip of a girl, why would you think about the blood staining the Pendragon name!"

Gwen knew that King Uther had been a hard king punishing all who dared cross him, commoner and noble alike. He had many enemies and not just those with magic had hated him for his uncompromising campaigns. Gwen would not defend the old king against Colan's ire, but if Jenna had not spoken first to calm her agitated husband, her intention had been to speak in support of Arthur.

"The boys will be back soon my husband, with enough kindling to make a good fire. Let's not dwell on the past, what was done cannot be undone with angry words, come Colan."

Jenna reached out for her husband and held him close, soothing him with gentle kisses and soft entreaties to let the past rest. Gwen stayed where she was, forgotten and unsure what to do next, feeling uncomfortable about intruding on an intimate moment between a couple who were so obviously in love with each other. Continuing to ignore Gwen, Jenna then took Colan by the hand and led him back to where they were setting up camp.

Wary of the meaning behind Colan's outburst, Gwen kept silent as she followed them and sat down as unobtrusively as possible beside the circle of stones what would soon be their fire. Jenna set about preparing vegetables to go in a large stew pot while Gwen was given the task of chopping up some potatoes. A more relaxed Colan sat across from them working on a block of wood already half carved into an elegant galloping horse. Gwen could hear the boys before she saw them, the oldest one, Jory had little Peder in one hand and a load of kindling strapped to his back, while Ruan lagged along behind with his own smaller burden. Jory was the child that Gwen decided most took after his father; he was very stern which made him seem older than his years, while Peder was too young to have absorbed the full effect of his father's bitterness. Gwen thought that Ruan was more like his mother, with a joy for life that would be difficult for Colan to extinguish.

There was a chill in the air which heralded the approach of nightfall as Colan inspected the wood the boys had brought back for the fire and bemoaned their efforts.

"Most of this is too damp to burn and I cannot spare any of more of my good carving wood. Jory come with me, we'll look for dry kindling, you should know better than this son."

As the two of them trudged off to search another nearby copse, Jenna turned to Gwen, "I hope you don't mind waiting a bit longer for your supper. I need to get some meat from the wagon for the stew if you could watch Peder."

"Of course, come here little one and sit beside me," Gwen said reaching out to the boy, who shyly did as he was asked, coming to sit down beside her on the ground.

Then Gwen's glance was drawn from her small charge to Ruan who was starting to arrange the wet kindling they had brought back.

"You'd best wait for your father to get back," Gwen warned him, sure that Colan would be furious with his son because the wood was far too damp and would do little more than billow smoke if he tried to light it.

The little boy gave her a cheeky grin and was pleased enough with himself to put a finger to his lips as signal for Gwen to be quiet. Young Peder seemed to know what was happening because he started to giggle as he clapped his hands together as though he was expecting Ruan to do something very clever.

The boy finished preparing the fire and Gwen watched as little Peder's excitement reached fever pitch just as she noticed Jenna running towards them shouting out Ruan's name. Ruan could not hear his mother because all of his energy was concentrating on the pile of wet logs in front of him. Gwen was transfixed as his eyes seemed to catch fire, emitting an intense golden colour. As soon as the unnatural light faded from his eyes, the kindling burst instantly into startlingly bright flames.

Shocked and frightened, Gwen instinctively covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. The boy had magic and suddenly Colan's attitude made sense. She was a stranger to them and now she knew their secret, a secret that in the kingdom of Camelot carried a sentence of death. Ruan's earlier exuberance fled as he realised he should not have revealed what he was. Gwen could read fear on the boy's face and although the very idea of magic scared her, she could not help her heart going out to him.

Jenna reached Ruan and wrapped her arms protectively around her boy. He buried his head in his mother's shoulder, while Jenna stared at Gwen with open hostility. Colan having heard his wife's cries was running towards them, Jory trailing behind him. When Gwen saw Colan's face illuminated by the un-natural firelight she knew she was right to be terrified. He took in the scene instantly and was in front of her, before Gwen could even think of running. He roughly pulled her to him with one hand while reaching with the other for the dagger tied to his leather belt. Dragging Gwen closer to get a better hold on her, Colan pointed the dagger menacingly towards her as Gwen tried to wriggle free from his clutches. Not strong enough to get away, Gwen was pulled closer so that the sharp blade was waved in front of her face, Colan's features contorted in anger and hatred.

"You will not betray us! Do you think we asked to be so cursed? You have no notion of what it is like to live as though you are a criminal, do you? We never asked for this!"

Gwen tried fruitlessly to move her face away from Colan and the venom with which he was shouting at her. The blade was dangerously close and Gwen was no match for this man, whose protective parental anger powered his strength. All she could do was to plead for her life, "I won't betray you, I won't…"

"A loyal subject of Camelot, a servant to the Pendragons willing to turn traitor, because, you _fool _of a girl, that is what your _false_ promise makes you."

Caught in an unequal struggle, as she battled to convince Colan that she was no threat to his family, Gwen desperately shouted out, "Uther Pendragon had my father executed because of magic, I have no loyalty to the old king!"

Colan's grip on her arm loosened slightly as he stared at her, trying to ascertain the truth in her words. Gwen met his gaze without flinching and while she held her breath, he lowered the dagger to his side.

"Yet you worked for them, served a king who ordered the drowning of boys younger than Ruan without hesitation. And this Arthur, well the young king is cut from the same cloth. Ruan was born with magic; we never asked or wanted that _gift._ And because of it we had to leave our families and home behind and live on the road, never staying too long in one place, keeping to ourselves, never making friends."

Gwen looked over at Ruan who was watching her from the safety of his mother's arms. "We are taught to fear those who have magic, but he is only a child. I promise that I _will_ keep your secret."

"Please don't hurt Gwen, I believe that she will not betray us," Jenna begged her husband.

Suddenly Colan let go of Gwen and she staggered backwards, her legs almost giving way beneath her.

"See and keep your promise, my child's life depends on it!" Colan said forcefully, before striding away from her. He stopped by his wife and child and stooped down to put a protective arm around Ruan.

Gwen wanted to run to Serenity and ride away, her distrust of Colan a strong motivation to put some distance between them. Her legs would not co-operate though as her body trembled in the aftermath of her near death experience.

Jenna saw Gwen's distress and she came over to offer comfort, trying to reassure her, "You are welcome to share our food and camp tonight, isn't that right Colan."

"I do not want you to leave; a lone woman is easy prey for the unscrupulous and I don't want that on my conscience. I give you my word that I will do you no harm.

Gwen, for all her distress, believed what he said was true. And the idea of not having to spend another night alone was enough to convince her to accept Colan's hospitality.

"Thank you, I will gladly stay if you will accept payment for my share of your food and company."

"That's agreed then, come and sit by the fire while I cook the stew." Jenna said, gesturing for Gwen to sit down by her at the campfire.

Gwen kept quiet while the family went about their chores and Peder played with a twig, using an end that had been sharpened by his father and dipped in the ash to make marks on the stones that circled the flames. Ruan stayed away from the fire watching the rest of his family, as much an outsider as Gwen was. She could not help her curiosity about the boy and his abilities, but kept her questions to herself.

One thought haunted her, would Arthur condemn this boy to death if he knew the truth about him. Gwen knew that his views on magic were the same as his father's. Though he had once gone against his father's wishes to help save a young druid boy, Gwen was sure that was because Morgana had asked for his help, and Arthur had good heart that only saw a small, hurt and frightened boy. If that boy had been born with magic, like Ruan, she wondered, would he have thought twice about giving him up to Uther.

* * *

Morgana watched as the men of Caerleon started to pack up their camp. She had just had a bruising encounter with their queen and was therefore not in the best of moods. Having had her nature unjustly compared to her hated father, Uther, had not helped what had been a deeply frustrating day. Another of Morgana's plans to gain the throne of Camelot had come to nothing and she needed someone to blame. Top of the list had to be that fool, Lord Agravaine; he had failed to ensure a great battle, in the midst of which, it would have made it easy to arrange the death of her hated half brother. Next on her list of disappointing failures was Queen Annis, in whom she had such great hopes only to watch the deluded woman make peace with Arthur. Then there was the Queen's choice of champion; he had turned out to be laughable waste of space. He was a giant brute of a man with no real fighting skill, who unsurprisingly had been no match for Camelot's warrior king. Even with the enchantment she had placed on his sword, Arthur had still won and in his victory had even graciously spared Caerleon's champion.

The fight between the two men still puzzled Morgana. The giant had been about to make the killing strike when his sword had slipped from his clumsy fingers as though the hilt had been smeared with lard. It was almost as if an unseen hand had reached out and pulled the weapon from the grasp of the large oaf. Morgana glowered as she spotted the very same champion helping his comrades to collapse tents, obviously a task for which he was far more suited than killing men. She shouldered her disappointment and stalked away to find her horse, resigned to returning empty handed to her hideout in the forest.

As she approached the line of horses, Morgana was surprised to spot one of her paid Camelot spies. He was a handsome youth who worked in the palace stables as a groom. Morgana had cultivated him with the vague promise of riches once she wore the crown. She had also made sure that he was more than a little in love with her, which along with coins had helped nurture his loyalty.

"You've travelled a long way to see me, what is it that couldn't wait?"

He blushed and looked furtively around the camp, perhaps considering now that his journey had been a little unwise. "I didn't know how the day would go my lady and felt this news could not wait."

"Well," Morgana prompted him, irritated that due to her vexing day, she could not recall his name for all the money in the five kingdoms. Fortunately the boy was too awed at being in her presence to notice the lack of familiarity, which in the past had marked their brief encounters.

"It is a puzzling piece of news that has caused much gossip in the palace, my lady. Your former maidservant, Gwen, suddenly left Camelot over a day ago. She purchased a horse and is travelling alone, most think she is heading south, but no one knows why or where she is going."

Morgana was truly surprised by this news; _little_ Gwen having the gall to leave Camelot, while her darling Arthur was in danger. It was indeed puzzling and she felt her informant had more than earned the silver coins she pressed into his hand.

"You _have _done well and now you have your reward, go quickly; I can't be seen with you."

The informant smiled happily at his good fortune and then slipped away to where his horse was hidden. Morgana untied and then mounted her horse while mulling over what she had been told. This was an unexpected opportunity to rid herself of a threat to her throne that particularly irked. Sweet gentle Gwen had once been her faithful handmaiden, but once she managed to snare Arthur's affections, she had simply become another rival to the throne in Morgana's eyes. Of course, the only way for a Blacksmith's daughter to become a queen was by marriage to a king. Ridiculous though that idea seemed; it was more than possible Arthur would go against all that his father stood for and choose love over duty.

Morgana would not have minded so much if he had decided on a princess to be his bride, but not Gwen; not the woman who had once been her lowly servant. For her to lay claim to the name of the proud house of Pendragon, when Morgana's right to it was questionable, rankled almost beyond all endurance. Her allies might not point out the uncomfortable reality of her status, but Morgana was sure it was whispered at their campfires. She was the oldest child of Uther Pendragon, but not only was she female; she was also the result of a dalliance with another's wife, a bastard child.

Her little brother, Arthur held the legitimate claim. She could only take the throne by force and the only real advantage she had, magic. Ridding herself of Gwen would mean she could sleep easier at night and it had the added blessing of causing Arthur pain. Morgana had the means through sorcery to pinpoint Gwen's route once she reached her hideaway and as soon as she held that information, her mercenaries would be given orders to seize and kill Gwen.

At least, Morgana thought, she was now able take something good out of what had been a most disappointing day.


	4. Chapter 4

**A fooled King, a spurned Maiden and a likely Knight**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin; I own nothing but my imagination.**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

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**Chapter Four**

* * *

It was a perfect morning as the sun smiled down on the fertile green plains of Arthur's kingdom, with not a single cloud to blot the azure blue of the sky. Yesterday Arthur had upheld the honour of Camelot singlehanded, besting Caerleon's man-mountain of a champion in a challenge to the death. Though part of that fight still puzzled Arthur; when his sword had become so heavy he could not lift it from the ground. As he struggled to wield his weapon, he was helpless and expected his opponent to make a killing strike, but the fates had intervened. The giant of a man had let his own sword slip through his massive fingers and that had been the instant when the battle had turned in Arthur's favour and he seized the victory. While he was magnanimously letting his opponent live to fight another day, Arthur had wondered at his good fortune. It was as if he had been born under a lucky star, because that was certainly not the first time he had survived events that should have led to certain death. He was not a superstitious person and would never admit to believing in something he could not explain, so he quickly put such thoughts behind him. Yet, although Arthur knew he should just be grateful he was alive and kicking, he still felt out of sorts as he led his army homeward.

He had been left a little sore and bruised by the fight, but that was the least Arthur expected from such combat. As soon as it was all over, the men of Caerleon had started to pack up to go home, their kingdom's quarrel with Camelot resolved. Although Arthur trusted Queen Annis to leave the land that she no longer held any right to, his army was honour bound to remain encamped where they were until the last of her warriors had wearily disappeared over the horizon. By then it had been too late for them to leave and they had to settle for another night in the open. So, if Arthur was honest, his bad mood was down to his burning desire to be back in the citadel of Camelot, which was currently being hampered by the lack of urgency from his victorious army as they slowly made their way home.

Last night Arthur had barely slept, waking before first light and having to yell at his lazy sleepyhead of a servant just to get his breakfast, and after that it had taken forever to get his men ready to break camp. As he had stood there observing his knights idling when they should be seeing to their horses, it had taken all his control not to scream at them to stop their cheerful banter. To his ears they sounded like a group of gossiping women rather than the elite band of knights they were purported to be. The men at arms were just as bad and it seemed only his uncle was showing any real keenness to be back in Camelot. Although Arthur was puzzled by Agravaine's mood; the man acted as though the outcome had not gone Camelot's way.

When Arthur questioned why he was in such a bad temper, Agravaine had expressed his displeasure that Arthur had put his own life in danger as one reason. He had also grumpily added that he felt Arthur had blundered by letting Queen Annis leave without having the peace agreement between the two kingdoms recorded on parchment. Arthur had waved away his uncle's concern for his safety - he had earned his reputation as the greatest warrior of Camelot and was therefore the only logical choice to be the kingdom's champion. The second issue left Arthur baffled; he thought his uncle should have learned from his unfortunate decision to insist the King of Caerleon put his name to a written pledge or lose his life. No, a verbal oath had been made between a king and a queen, and those royal words were sacrosanct. However, Arthur was touched by his concern and to ensure that Agravaine was not troubled further, he chose to keep his resolve to mend his relationship with Guinevere from his uncle for the moment.

As he rode along, Arthur pondered on how best to sort out yet another mess of his own creation. The image from that fateful night of Guinevere's heartbroken face was as vivid now as when he had left her cottage. He felt shame for having hurt her so cruelly, even though at the time his motives had made sense to him. Now, knowing he had been wrong, Arthur decided he would do whatever it took to win her back; even grovelling would not be below him if it brought him back into her favour.

A shout rudely aimed at his royal ear interrupted Arthur's thoughts. He looked round not in the least surprised to see Merlin grinning at him in his best insolent manner. Arthur wondered if it was about time the worst manservant in the five kingdoms tasted the delights of the stocks again, as he indicated he was ready to hear what Merlin had to say.

"Sire, there's a good spot ahead to rest the horses and men, at your command of course."

"_Glad_ you've remembered who's in charge, Merlin. No, we've barely started and I want to be back in Camelot before darkness falls."

Merlin brought his horse closer and leaned over towards Arthur to observe in a low voice, "You're very keen to get home, is there a particular reason – perhaps you have a pie contest to judge, a speech to the Gild of Silversmiths to prepare or is it someone in _particular_…?"

The sight of Merlin wiggling his eyebrows at his royal personage in a suggestive way at the last option was the final straw, "If you don't want to have to_ run_ the rest of the way…"

"Shut up?" Merlin suggested helpfully.

Arthur pursed his lips and managed to keep his face grim and regal like, as he nodded in agreement, wondering how his servant always managed to get to the truth of the matter.

Agravaine, part of the group of knights directly behind the king, listened to their conversation and wondered yet again at the liberties Merlin was allowed to get away with. Arthur and Merlin were around about the same age and that was all they should have in common, but in Agravaine's opinion Merlin was allowed to get away with behaving as though he was Arthur's equal. He decided to have a quiet word with his nephew about keeping the hired help in his rightful place when they got back to Camelot. Then Agravaine let the matter of uppity servants go for the moment, because he had more pressing problems. He might be eager to return to Camelot, but a forthcoming encounter was making him very anxious. He was not looking forward to seeing the Lady Morgana after the failure of their plan to end Arthur's reign. Agravaine had already accepted that he would get the blame regardless of the fact that he had carried out his part to the best of his ability. Even, at great risk to his own position, personally removing the king's sword from the royal tent and then carrying it through the camp to Morgana, so that she could cast an enchantment on it. So Agravaine felt aggrieved that it was inevitable he would be taking the blame for the failings of others, Caerleon's champion for one. Of course, he thought, there was also the matter of Gwen; if she had acted on his suggestion and the mercenaries had done as he ordered, well, there was still a chance he had done something that would please Morgana. Comforted by that thought, Agravaine urged his horse on to Camelot.

* * *

Still groggy from sleep, Gwen raised herself onto her elbows and looked around for the carpenter and his family, only to find the campsite deserted apart from Serenity grazing peacefully on the meadow grass. The family must have left while it had been still dark because there was no sight of them on the road that stretched towards the distant town. Gwen was wondering why she felt so woozy when the thought came to her that she might have been drugged; it would explain why she had fallen into such a deep slumber. Not able to trust Colan, she had wanted to stay alert in case he made a move while the others slept. Yet if her suspicion was correct, it seemed that in spite of his fine talk about not harbouring any ill will, Colan had made his family take their leave while she slept on. He had left her helpless and that thought left a nasty taste in Gwen's mouth.

Then she spied a silver coin balanced forlornly on one of the stones ringing the site of that fateful fire. Last night Gwen had insisted Jenna take the money for the food the family had shared with her and it saddened her to see the payment had been rejected. On checking her saddlebags to see what she had left for breakfast, Gwen got another surprise. Wrapped in a tight package were two bread rolls and a cooked chicken leg. There was also some dry firewood piled up next to where she had slept to light a fire. Gwen was sure that the food had come from Jenna; her husband would surely not have bothered to show any consideration towards her comfort, not after having chosen to behave so shamefully.

Gwen thought that the family had started to trust her, just as she had begun to sympathise with them after hearing the story of Sir Perran's village. So discovering they had been suspicious enough to agree to drug her, hurt. Putting the blame for this action squarely on Colan, Gwen chose not to make a fire, and while eating one of the rolls and some of the chicken meat, any enjoyment she could have taken from her breakfast was spoiled by the realisation of how poorly she had been treated. The adventure she had entered into in such uncharacteristic haste was opening her eyes to the true way of the world. Gwen had faced terrors in her life before, but now she was free to decide what path she should take. From that moment on she vowed to be more wary of the people she encountered and their motives.

While chewing on the chicken leg, Gwen thought about the story Jenna had told about the abandoned village she passed yesterday prior to meeting the family. The villagers had practised the ways of the old religion long after the rest of the kingdom had been terrorised by King Uther to betray the druids and anyone else they knew who had magic. That village had been protected by a nobleman whose stronghold was situated on the hill above the community. He had a fierce reputation and there were rumours he had some kind of hold on Uther. Gwen had never heard of this apparently legendary knight, Sir Perran, but that could be explained in part by the fact he had married a witch named Kensa, who had been the real power in the area. Also Uther's enemies had been quickly and conveniently forgotten by the populace of Camelot, once their bodies were consigned to unmarked graves

King Uther had eventually felt strong enough to turn his attention to Sir Perran's rebellious ways and there had been a vicious battle near the knight's castle with great losses on Camelot's side. Uther only managed to turn defeat into victory when Kensa, trapped in the burning central tower of the keep, was consumed alive by the flames. The agonising screams of the dying witch had chilled the very bones of those unfortunate enough to be nearby. As soon as she breathed her last, the mysterious power that had held Uther's knights at bay lessened and Sir Perran, and all that remained of his garrison, as well as the villagers, including women and children, were slaughtered without mercy. It had not mattered to Uther if they had magic or not, the villagers' support of sorcery was enough to seal the fate of the youngest babe in arms.

Jenna had gone on to explain that the burning of the enchantress had led Uther to favour that method of execution for sorcerers and witches. He had decreed it to be the most effective way of breaking any enchantments that had been made against him and Camelot. Gwen remembered her father telling her about the purge; the numerous stakes set up on open ground outside the citadel. The smell of burning flesh and the screams of the tormented had left an indelible and horrific impression on those who had witnessed the event. It was a terrible way to die, and one which Gwen had personally been condemned to suffer, until at the last moment she had been saved from the flames by proof of her innocence.

Having finished breakfast and with a heavy heart, Gwen packed up her few belongings. She chose to leave the silver coin behind in the hope another traveller might appreciate her gift. Then she mounted Serenity and pointed her horse in the direction of the town of Wenham. As she rode along the road that had been carved through the valley, Gwen thought about Arthur for the first time since waking. Perhaps it was a result of the unnaturally deep sleep or some other unexplainable sense, but Gwen felt confident on that sunny morning that Arthur had survived the battle against Caerleon.

The pain at being parted from him was still raw but his decision to reject their love was more understandable to her on that new day. After all, he had been trained from birth for the role of king; the duty to protect his people ingrained in his blood. Gwen thought that he had decided only a wife of royal blood could know what it meant to take life and death decisions for the greater good of their people. Gwen knew now that she could never agree to condemn a child like Ruan to death, especially as it was only through a cruel trick of birth that he stood condemned by the law of the Camelot. Gwen would always carry her love for Arthur with her, but she now felt that the dream of a future together was nothing more than a youthful folly.

Gwen approached the walled town of Wenham from the north through a well guarded stone gatehouse. She surmised that it must be a market day as there were numerous heavily laden carts either waiting their turn to cross or rumbling over a wooden drawbridge. Edging forward Gwen was relieved to be allowed to enter the town without question by the armed soldiers who were more interested in the contents of the carts. The sight of so much food was making Gwen's mouth water as well; there was all manner of fruit, bread and meat being transported to the centre of the town. She found the market simply by following the traders and when she arrived was entranced by the noise and bustle. It was on a much larger scale than the Camelot markets, where, because Uther never allowed the Citadel courtyard to be used for that purpose, they did not have a open square large enough to accommodate so many different traders.

Gwen dismounted from Serenity and led her horse in between the different stalls, stopping to look at the many food stalls and finger the different types of cloth on display, admiring the vibrant colours skilful dyers had produced. This, Gwen thought, was a place where she could settle; perhaps even opening her own dressmaking shop one day. To make a living from her own skills just as her father had done - that would be a good life. However, first Gwen wanted to complete the quest she had set herself. She purchased food and an extra set of saddlebags, deciding against getting a pack animal to carry a more substantial amount of supplies. The traders she spoke to had assured her that there were many settlements between Wenham and her destination where she could buy more wares.

The sun was at its apex when Gwen left by the south gate on the road that would lead her directly to the kingdom of Dewnens. She started to relax for the first time since she had begun her journey. Mostly this was because she was amused by a group of fellow travellers; a troupe of entertainers who were on their way to the stronghold of King Wilfred of Dewnens to provide the entertainment for the annual 'Bounty of the Sea' festival. They were a boisterous lot; men, women and children of varying ages travelling in six large covered wagons of different designs. Some of the troupe walked alongside the carts practicing their art; ball juggling, balancing on stilts and even swallowing swords or breathing fire as they strode along the dusty road in their vibrant performance clothes. Gwen had not asked to join them, but they accepted her presence without question and even included her in their conversations. She was sure that some had attended celebrations in Camelot over the years but none seemed to recognize her and Gwen made no mention of the Pendragons or the citadel she had left behind. Instead she told those that were interested that she was on her way to visit a friend who lived on the coast in a town called Deawlisc. One member of the troupe, a young acrobat who went by the name of Digory was making his way along the road on his hands, his feet swaying in the air, and he told Gwen he knew Deawlisc well and started to describe it to her. Then he got involved in a heated debate with a stilt walker about which of their many entertainments brought in the most coins and Gwen did not get another chance to ask him any further questions because he cart wheeled away as as it looked likely he would lose the argument.

Gwen was then happy enough just to listen as the troupe discussed new ideas for tricks that might please their patron, King Wilfred, while fitting the theme of the festival. Even if to Gwen, some of the suggestions were truly ridiculous; such as juggling fish or even live crabs, which sounded potentially eye wateringly painful, or making a giant seaweed monster to frighten the children. Even with their disagreements, Gwen could tell they were happy with their lot in life and it seemed to her that travelling from town to town, castle to castle, to entertain people was a wonderful way to live for someone with that kind of talent.

* * *

As midday approached Sir Leon cantered up to Arthur and successfully made the case for a brief respite for the army. They halted at a river where the men and horses could quench their thirst on what was a baking hot day. The foot soldiers taking the opportunity to cool their aching feet in the shallows while replenishing their water pouches. And everyone was allowed to grab something to eat on the road from the provision carts, before resuming the journey to Camelot.

Happy to be on the move again and riding at the head of his army, Arthur turned his mind to a way to win Guinevere back. He needed everything between them to return to how it had been before he had broken her heart. And it was the manner in which he could best achieve this task that was worrying him. If Arthur was honest, his experience of women had been rather limited; the female sex remained a mystery to him in so many ways. If, for instance, he had words with one of his knights, Arthur knew that it only needed a brotherly punch or two to sort out any bad feelings. So in Arthur's experience men did not let grievances linger. Women though, would remember every word exchanged in the heat of the moment, and had a tendency to misinterpret meanings, twisting them until Arthur felt dizzy. A mistress of that art, the Lady Morgana, had enjoyed taunting him with her changeable nature, but as he found it difficult to think of her at all without remembering the pain of her betrayal, Arthur chose not to linger on that particular example of womanhood. He also freely admitted that Guinevere, in contrast, had always made him feel safe, and was blessed with a good heart and too sweet a nature to toy with his feelings. However, Arthur knew that he had royally messed things up this time and it occurred to him that a gift might smooth the path to his love's forgiveness. That led to the next problem as the need to get back to Camelot and Guinevere had to be weighed against the time it would take to find a suitable peace offering.

Arthur was trying to work out if he should entrust Merlin to make a detour at the next settlement they passed, on the search for a suitable present, when he noticed that the roadside was lined by long stemmed deep purple flowers. He knew the flowers would look wonderful threaded through Guinevere's rich dark brown tresses. Not wanting to dismount to pick flowers in full view of his men, Arthur decided to lean from his horse to gather the top stems of a plant or two. He loosely wrapped the reins he was holding around the pummel of his saddle and leaned down towards the closest plants. Unfortunately he could only just manage to brush against the highest flowers with his fingers tips. Although, they were further from his grasp than he had estimated, Arthur was never one to give up when he had set his mind on something. Leaning still further out of his saddle, he managed to grab hold of one of the taller plants and yanked it, tearing free the top part of the stem.

Unluckily for Arthur, before he could right himself, his horse trotted into a sudden dip in the road. Not having any warning, Arthur was completely unbalanced, and he slipped from the saddle, his feet leaving the stirrups, and his body sliding awkwardly down the side of the horse. To save himself, he had to release the flowers or topple to the road. He could only watch as they lazily fluttered down to the ground in his stead. Only holding onto the pommel with both hands while his right leg was hooked around the back of his saddle stopped him from ignominiously sliding after what was turning out to be a costly prize. The horse whinnied softly as it came to a halt and turned round to eye his master, who was dangling from his side at a very strange angle.

From the stunned silence behind him, Arthur knew that his men were all taking in the strange sight of him hanging off his horse. Knowing that he had gone too far to turn back now and aware that his face had already turned the colour of a ripe tomato in embarrassment, Arthur reached out one of his hands and quickly plucked the top of another plant with some flowers attached. Then utilising all of his determination, he righted himself to sit on the saddle, quickly securing both of his feet in the stirrups. It was just his luck that the first face he saw was that of his manservant, Merlin, who with a huge grin on his face seemed particularly interested in the disappointingly ragged flowers clutched in his king's hand. Arthur quickly stuffed the offending blooms into his saddle bag, and trying to ignore the continuing heat from his reddened cheeks, waited for Merlin to make the snarky comment he was clearly itching to utter.

"Did you nod off sire; because if I'm not mistaken, you very nearly toppled from your horse?"

Without looking back, Arthur raised his right hand and signalled that his army should start to move again, unable to ignore the unmistakable sound of laughter rising above the muted conversations among the ranks.

"No Merlin, a good warrior should be able to carry out all kinds of manoeuvres while on horseback. I was merely practicing one such move." Arthur lied in a desperate attempt to salvage what he could of his dignity.

"Personally, I hope you're not planning to include that one in our training sessions," Gwaine shouted out from the group of knights behind Arthur.

"It looked dangerous to me, how could you defend yourself from that position?" Percival added and Arthur turned round just in time to see him lift his unsheathed sword and about to tip over on his horse in an effort to demonstrate his point.

"Not now Percival, we'll work on this back at Camelot, put away your sword."

Merlin was no longer bothering to hide his amusement as he laughed out loud at Gwaine's wry comment that Percival would be more likely to upend his horse if he tried to copy Arthur's acrobatics.

Then Arthur met Merlin's gaze again and it was obvious that his servant had not believed a single word his king had just uttered.

* * *

The troupe set up camp for the night and accepted Gwen's right as a fellow traveller to join them. They did not share their food but made room for her at their campfire as they entertained themselves with songs of kings, queens and knights of old and their tragic loves and daring deeds. Gwen chewed on pieces of honey smeared bread she had purchased in Wenham and drank the cool clear water from her water pouch filled from a nearby stream. Along with the children, she enjoyed the wonderful stories that were helping to lessen any fear of the encroaching cold darkness of night.

When it was time to pick a place to sleep, Gwen chose a spot near the edge of the camp, close to where the horses were tethered for the night. She saw to Serenity before making up her own bed, feeding the horse some oats and brushing her down, the quiet rhythms of the night as the rest of the camp started to fall silent soothing her mind, readying her for sleep. Yet, even in the company of such a peaceful group as the travelling troupe, Gwen still chose to fall asleep with her father's sheathed sword in her arms.

A woman's scream echoing through the campsite woke Gwen with a start some time later. At first she could not make sense of where she was because apart from small fires from torches bobbing through the campsite and the red glow of the dampened down central fire, it was pitch dark. Gwen felt safer when she drew her sword and felt its weight in her hands, as more confused shouts and screams were joined by clashes of metal on metal. Then the previously shrouded moonlight brought an eerie sense to the scene in front of her. Gwen could see armed figures in silhouette moving through the camp. Members of the troupe had also armed themselves and were making a stand against the interlopers, using swords and axes of their own. It was a vision that nightmares were made of as Gwen watched the blood letting play out in front of her. Even though the night had bled away all colour from the scene, it did not lessen the terrifying intensity of the battle she was witnessing.

Gwen was still rooted to the spot unsure which way would led her to safety when a large man loomed towards her out of the darkness holding a heavy battle axe in his right hand and a long sword in the other. He wore a thick leather sleeved tunic for protection instead of a knight's chainmail, and his evil smile at the instant he set eyes on her made Gwen's blood run cold. He looked as pleased as if she had been a casket full to the brim with gold coin.

"Over here boys, she's the one we seek!"

No one else seemed to have answered his call as he advanced on Gwen, then an arm reached across her shoulders from behind. Gwen was jerked back against the second stranger, who then used his other hand to force her sword from her grip. He threw it to the ground and out of her reach and all Gwen could do was stare at the man standing in front of her in horrified disbelief. She had come to the terrifying realisation that these men had been hunting for her and had no problem killing anyone who stood in their way.

"You've led us on a merry dance, Gwen, daughter of Tom the Blacksmith. We have had to ride hard to catch up with you, cost me a horse or two, I'll tell you. Our patron was right though, knew exactly where you would be little beauty. And now we know that sorcery is a valuable tool for enterprising men! Loosen your grip on the poor child, Aled; you're choking the life out of her and I have a question or two to ask."

The one called Aled did as he was told, relaxing the pressure on her throat, although he kept his arm about her shoulders and a hold of Gwen's sword arm. The fighting and killing was still going on behind them and the shrieks of women as they joined the desperate fray only made the big man smile even more.

"I'm the one you want, order your men to stop." Gwen said as bravely as she could manage, acutely aware of the size and threat of the large man standing in front of her.

"They are indeed my men, and for your information your _highness_ they _are_ following orders. We can't have any witnesses left breathing now, can we? Anyway why should I deprive my men of their fun?"

"You are killing innocent people; men, women and children who have done you no wrong!"

"Innocent! Look around you. These innocents, as you call them, are putting up a good fight. They've taken the lives of a fair few of my friends. Enough of this, I've introduced young Aled there and it's only polite to give you my name. I'm Maban the Fair and just in case you're wondering I was not named because I am a just man but due to my good looks!"

Maban had the nerve to laugh out loud at what was patently a very bad joke. Even by the silver moonlight, Gwen could see that he was an ugly man with a pockmarked skin, and a large misshapen nose and to top it all he was missing half an ear as a result of a livid scar that ran down the side of his face.

"Now to business, a man who goes by the name of the Lone Wolf, thought he could get no less than a king's ransom for you for your safe return to King Arthur of Camelot. It is said you mean a great deal to the Pendragon."

Maban reached forward to stroke Gwen's cheek and when she tried to move away from his calloused fingers, Aled tightened his grip on her neck so that only her toes were left touching the ground. The so called 'Maban the Fair' was now standing so close, the stench of rank sweat and breath that indicated a distinct lack of hygiene, made Gwen gag.

"Is this true my pretty one?"

Gwen shuddered in response to that vile man's touch and raised her free hand to claw at the arm that was threatening to strangle her in a vice like grip. Aled let his hold relax only just enough to allow her to speak.

"No, it is not true. I mean nothing to King Arthur. I owe him loyalty only as a subject of Camelot, nothing more." Although Gwen stumbled over her words, she refused to give the man the pleasure of seeing her cry as she denied her connection to Arthur.

"That's a shame and you such a beauty too."

Maban's hand reached out to touch Gwen's woollen travelling coat, running his fingers down the fastenings, as though giving a great deal of consideration to the cut and quality of the material.

"I've never bedded a king's lady. I wonder what tricks you've learned to please royalty, eh. Would it do any harm to sample the pleasure you could bring a simple man?"

Gwen managed to fight her fear and disgust to shout out in desperate defiance, "You'd be wasting your time with me then, because I've never lain with a king!"

The up to then silent Aled gave Gwen a start as he chimed in with some advice, "No time for fun and games, Mabby, because I for one don't want to fall foul of our patron."

Maban backed away from Gwen, making a show of being so amused by her anger he had lost interest in what lay below her clothing, to cover any loss of face his change of plan had brought him.

"Ah, it seems it's just as well we didn't listen to that particular _wolf_, eh Aled. He had such high hopes you would fetch a large reward if he spared your life, but never fear my dear, there is another who will pay just as well to see you dead!"

Maban tucked his axe into the belt of his tunic and took a step closer to Gwen. He had an evil smirk on his face as two handed he swished his sword menacingly from side to side in anticipation of another form of pleasure.

Gwen tried to struggle, but Aled was strong and held her easily. It did not escape her notice that this was the second time in so many days that she was facing death. Only this time, there was no one to help her. As Gwen faced her fate she thought of Arthur and that she would never see him again. In his memory she refused to give her killer the satisfaction of seeing her break down and plead with him for her life.

Gwen chose instead to face the end with the stubborn pride she knew Arthur would have appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin, I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

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**Chapter Five**

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Time slowed down as Gwen concentrated on Maban, who was slicing thin air with his sword, as if play-fighting. The coward was teasing her, taking his time, because she was unable to escape. His accomplice, Aled, held her tightly in his grasp, having to gasp with effort as she struggled. Aled was loosing patience with the big oaf's antics and he cursed at him, pleading that he should get on with the business. In response, the callous fool laughed and then complained that he would not to be denied his fun, before starting to approach her with deadly purpose.

Just as Gwen thought her life could only be measured in a blink of an eye, she was aware of something slicing through the air just to her right and Maban was lurching backwards, dropping his sword. Then she was faced with the sight of Maban on his knees as he clutched at the weapon that had speared him through the chest. He made a guttural sound as blood started to dribble from his sagging mouth and he slowly toppled back to the earth so that the wooden shaft of the spear pointed straight up to the sky.

There was no time for Aled to react, as he convulsed in pain, pushing Gwen away so suddenly she was tipped forward and fell to the ground on her hands and knees. The adrenalin was coursing through her as she reclaimed her father's sword and quickly turned around to face the person who had just felled her attackers.

In the darkness it was difficult to make out the tall stranger with shoulder length hair standing over Aled. Gwen could tell he was clad in the chainmail of a knight, but she had learnt from hard experience that was not a sign to give her trust too easily. Anyone with sufficient coin could purchase chainmail and he wore no badge of allegiance that she could see. The man was currently poking Aled with his sword, presumably to make sure he was truly dead. Then he glanced up at Gwen and beckoned that she should come to him, putting a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence. Gwen glanced behind her and saw that the battle between the troupe and the bandits was over. Now a strange calm had descended on the scene, as the men left standing used torches to check the dead. Gwen realised they were targeting the women, so she guessed they were looking for her.

That scared her and she felt there was no other option but to accept help from the stranger. Still Gwen approached him cautiously, only to be grabbed as soon as she was in reach and abruptly forced down onto her haunches. She would have cried out, but he had already taken the precaution of covering her mouth with his gloved hand. Furious Gwen bit through the soft leather and managed to nip the soft flesh of a finger. He gave a muted yelp as he swiftly withdrew his hand, quickly whispering that he meant her no harm and that if she would follow his lead he would guide her to safety. Without waiting for confirmation she agreed with his plan, the man sheathed his sword in a scabbard strapped to his back and then started to crawl along the forest floor, using the low bushes growing between the trees as cover. After going a little way, he stopped and looked round, expecting Gwen to be behind him. She still held her sword, but not having the scabbard to hand, realised it would be an encumbrance, so must be left behind. Now she would have no means of protection and no choice but to put her trust in this man.

The forest floor was a mass of roots, bushes and rocks which made it difficult terrain on which to crawl. The world was plunged back into darkness as the moon again hid behind clouds, as Gwen's heart raced and she was sure her ragged breathing was noisy enough to wake the dead. They finally stopped when they reached an ancient tree with roots that lay gnarled and twisted over the uneven ground. The man whispered that Gwen should lie in a gap between the roots of the tree where she would be hidden from sight. Then without a further word he drew his sword and left her.

Gwen took advantage of the re-appearance of the moon to look back in the direction of the campsite. She could still see men moving about in the distance, and she pushed her body down into the hollow as far as possible, lying with her eyes closed, as she wished with all her heart she had never left Camelot. Gwen was worried that it would not be long before the bandits started to widen their search to the forest that surrounded the camp.

Then someone tapped Gwen's left shoulder and she almost jumped out of her skin as the now familiar gloved hand reached round to cover her mouth before she could scream. She was hauled to her feet and quickly led around the tree, where she was shoved through a long narrow gash that opened up into the hollowed out heart of the tree. After he squeezed in beside her it was so cramped they were forced to kneel side by side on the rough ground. Gwen then saw that the stranger must have taken the risk of returning to the camp, because he held a woollen blanket. This, he secured so that the material covered the narrow opening. Then they could do nothing but stay silent in the dark, with Gwen holding her breath, as she heard the sounds of men passing close by their hiding place. Eventually when the noises drifted off into the distance she succumbed to sleep, the chainmail covered arm of the unknown man her only cushion.

* * *

A loud groan woke Gwen and she wearily opened her eyes to see daylight was breaking into their hiding place through pinprick holes in the thick weave of the blanket. Gwen was embarrassed to find that she was leaning against the stranger's chest so she quickly pushed herself away only to discover how badly her body ached after a night in that restricted space. It was obvious that the stranger, being much taller than her was in a worse state. First he moved very gingerly to stick his head out of the opening so that he could check the lie of the land. Then having ascertained that there was no danger, he eased the rest of his body very carefully out of the curved opening and disappeared from view. Gwen could then hear him groaning and sighing as he stretched away his aches and pains.

So occupied was Gwen with easing the pain in her shins, it gave her a start to hear the disembodied voice of the stranger, which had a surprisingly high boyish tone, "Good morning, my lady. It is safe if you wish to venture outside."

Then after waiting a few moments without any sign that the lady in question was going to appear, he crutched down and stuck his head back inside the hollowed out tree trunk.

"Please forgive my lack of manners; I am Galahad of the House of Benoic, at your service, my lady."

Amused by the manner in which she had been addressed, Gwen replied, "I'm Gwen and there's no need for such formality, I am no lady."

"All those of the fairer sex are _ladies_ to a man pursuing that most noble of professions - a knight." He announced in all seriousness while offering his hand to help Gwen from their hiding place.

She gratefully accepted, hiding her amusement at his earnest statement, which had been ruined by an uncontrollable variation in his voice between a high squeak and manly rumble.

As soon as Gwen was standing beside Galahad, a quick glance was enough to show that her suspicions were correct; her saviour was not a full grown man, but was in fact near enough a boy. He might have the height of a man, but not the muscle to fill the chainmail he wore, which hung loosely from his narrow shoulders. His face made his youth far more obvious, with a pimply face and only fine fluff for beard growth.

"Are you not a little young to be a knight?" Gwen asked gently. Then when she saw his crestfallen face, she added quickly, "You were very brave last night, I have you to thank for my life."

Galahad ignored Gwen's compliments, focusing on the first comment she had made, which he took to be patronising at best. He decided it was important to show this lady, how seriously he took his ambition to be a great knight.

"I am travelling to the court of King Arthur to offer my service as a knight of Camelot. I'm sure he will not hold my age against me. Especially if you could accompany me to that great citadel and vouch for my brave deeds?"

Gwen found she could no longer look the eager young man in the face and maintain her composure. She was grateful for his help, but she thought Galahad had no idea what he was letting himself in for, if he imaged Arthur and his knights would welcome him to their ranks that easily. Anyway, a return to Camelot was now out of the question; if someone was searching for her that was exactly what they would expect her to do after last night. Maban had mentioned a patron and Gwen suspected either Lord Agravaine or Lady Morgana had funded the bandits.

"I know I owe you my life Galahad, but unfortunately my journey takes me in the opposite direction, to the kingdom of Dewnens."

Then Gwen had what she thought was a brilliant idea and added, "However, I come from Camelot and know some of the knights. Sir Leon is a good man and if you petition to be his squire I know you will be treated fairly. Then when the time is right I'm sure you will gain the knighthood you seek."

Galahad sighed somewhat dramatically before saying wearily, "My lady, I do not dismiss your suggestion lightly, but I have already spent too many years serving first as a page and then as a squire to the son of Lord Cador. When my family lost favour at King Odin's court it was made clear by Lord Cador that he would never help me become a knight. Then I heard that King Arthur knights men based only on merit, regardless of their status, and I resolved to pledge my sword to his service."

"It is true that King Arthur has knighted men who have proven their worth, whether or not they are noble born, but…"

"And I am certain that such a wise king will recognise my worth, but that is a matter you need not concern yourself with, dear lady."

Gwen found Galahad's blind self belief annoying; she had to keep reminding herself that he was still very young and naive.

"Your horse and belongings are at the campsite?" Galahad asked.

"Yes, or at least I hope they're still there."

"Let's go and find out, I'll take the lead in case we run into bandits."

Gwen could tell she had not deflected him in the slightest from his plan to go to Camelot, so she decided to take his advice and think no more on it. He would face reality soon enough, she thought, or more precisely have it knocked into him. They cautiously retraced their footsteps, Gwen feeling anxious about returning to the place where there had been such terrible brutality.

As they neared the campsite, Galahad cautioned her in a low voice, "Take care to avert your eyes, my lady, the aftermath of battle is frightening for those of a gentle disposition."

Honestly, Gwen found it almost impossible to contain her temper at his presumption that just because she was a mere woman, she needed protection from the horrors of war. She whispered back with some venom, "I have not led a sheltered life, Galahad. I know what battle is like; I have even witnessed the full horror of a dragon attack on Camelot. Might I suggest that you show more concern that the men who are looking for me could still be here?"

Galahad said nothing in return and had the grace to look chastened as he went ahead up a slight slope that led to the campsite.

After he was satisfied that all was safe he turned to Gwen and indicated that she should join him. When she stood at the edge of the campsite, Gwen was terribly conscious of the eerie silence in the place, which had been filled with so many warm and friendly human voices only the evening before. She could see bodies strewn over the camp and felt saddened that so many innocents had lost their lives. It was also disorientating to see the campsite in daylight and that made it difficult to work out where she had bedded down the previous night. Then Gwen spotted horses grazing at the edge of the forest. As they approached the animals, her heart quickened when she saw that Serenity was among the few horses that had not been chased off or taken. She took hold of Serenity's reins and stroked her mane, talking quietly to the gentle animal she had thought she would never see again. Then she led Serenity towards the tree where she had left her belongings. The bodies of the two men Galahad had struck down still lay where they had died. Maban's hands were clasped in a death grip around the shift of the spear that was embedded in his chest. His unseeing eyes gazing up at the sky and his ugly face stuck in an expression of surprised horror.

Galahad strode over and took hold of the spear shaft in his hands, putting his foot on the Maban's torso to give him leverage, and pulled it free from the body.

"I don't want to waste a good throwing spear," he explained on seeing Gwen's discomfort at his actions.

Galahad, who dismissed Gwen's reaction as another example of the squeamishness of women, leant over the body to take a closer look at the bandit's face.

"What did this wretch want with you? I did not hear all, but I'm sure he said someone would pay him well to kill you?"

"Yes, you heard correctly Galahad." Gwen replied, wondering sadly to herself how it was possible for someone to hate her so much they were willing to pay a small army to have her killed.

Galahad had turned his full attention to Gwen, examining her closely with his eyes, as if she was a puzzle.

"And you are set on travelling to Dewnens?"

"Yes, I fear returning to Camelot would not be a good idea. I know of two people who might wish me harm, and I need to put some distance between me and them. One of them has magic, but she will have to wait until her men report back, before they can be sent out again after me. I have to use this time to get as far away from Camelot as I can. "

"Then I consider it my sworn duty to ensure that you reach your destination safely, my lady. I know King Arthur's view of the dark arts." Galahad stated with great solemnity.

"I can't ask you to do that Galahad; you would be travelling in the opposite direction from where you want to be."

"Nonsense, it will be time well spent, because you can repay me with all you know about King Arthur and his knights. You must have many stories and knowledge is always of use to a knight on a great quest."

Gwen groaned inwardly, she had undertaken this journey in an attempt to heal her heart and get away from Camelot and Arthur. While Gwen no longer wanted to travel alone, the last thing she needed was to have to provide Galahad with stories of the daring deeds of her former love and his knights.

Galahad sensed her reluctance, "I understand such things are not of interest to the fairer sex, so I will do my best not to overburden you with _too_ many questions."

He looked so young and eager to please that Gwen, despite her misgivings, found it impossible to resist, "Then I will be honoured to have your company and protection, Galahad. I promise to answer your questions to the best of my ability."

With that agreed, Galahad helped Gwen gather up her belongings and prepare Serenity for the journey ahead. He then led her to where he had set up camp a little distance from the main campsite. There was no evidence that the bandits had taken much interest in his belongings, or more surprisingly in the magnificent black charger loosely tethered to the branch of a nearby tree. From Gwen's knowledge of horses, learnt while she watched her father at his work as a Blacksmith, she knew instantly that such a beast would be an expensive purchase.

She could not help exclaiming, "What a beautiful animal, he would be worth his weight in gold as a king's mount, let alone a knight."

Galahad turned as red as a beetroot and Gwen could not help but wonder if he had stolen this beast from Lord Cador's stable.

"Cadfael is my horse, my lady. I bought him with the last of the Benoic family silver before I left Lord Cador's service. He would agree with you, his last words to me were that he did not consider him a _suitable_ mount for a lowly squire. But how could I arrive at King Arthur's court without a proper war horse."

Gwen said nothing, realising that she had managed to hurt his feelings, and that it had been easily done. For all that she would value his protection; her journey was going to seem to take a lot longer, due to his prickly adolescent sensitivity and obsession with all things to do with knights. The evidence was all there in the name he had given his horse, Cadfael, which Gwen well knew meant Battle Prince.

* * *

Arthur had arrived at Camelot's citadel after dusk. When he entered the town that circled the citadel he had looked out for Guinevere among those who came out to welcome him home as their conquering hero, but had not been rewarded with a single glimpse of her. Then he had been involved in a protracted meeting with his counsellors. That was followed by time alone with his uncle, who had felt obliged to give Arthur some detailed advice on disciplining servants, of all things. By the time his royal duties had been discharged Arthur had developed a splitting headache and a desperate need for sleep. It had been too late to send word to Guinevere and he decided he would make a better job of delivering his apology after a night's rest.

The first thing he did the following morning was to order Merlin to find Guinevere and ask her to attend him in his chambers. Arthur was revelling in the comfort of his four poster bed; and knew Guinevere was good at finding reasonable excuses to enter his chambers that would avoid any chance she might be compromised. The flowers he had picked from the roadside were hidden under the pillow he rested on and although they were in a sorry state the blooms retained their vivid colour. Arthur could have had flowers sent up from the royal gardens but it seemed to him that Guinevere would appreciate the ones he had picked much more.

As Arthur lay there cocooned in his bed, he started to become anxious that it was taking too long for Guinevere to appear. He did not think that she would purposely delay a summons from her king, so the blame must rest on the shoulders of his manservant, Merlin. Probably the sot had been unable to resist the temptations of the tavern. His predilection for that type of establishment was so legendary, Arthur even doubted the threat of the stocks would be a sufficient deterrent.

Arthur padded to the door of his chambers in his bare feet, and opening it startled the two guards standing outside so that they visibly jumped. Having been put in a bad mood by the lack of attentiveness of the palace guard, he issued a terse order that Merlin was to attend his king without further delay, before slamming the door and stomping back to bed.

A short while later his somewhat tense and out of breath manservant, barged into the royal chambers.

Arthur sat upright on the bed and fixed Merlin with a long and he hoped appropriately hard stare.

"What have you been doing, I gave you a simple order, one that _even_ you could not have a problem understanding!"

"Ah, that's where you're wrong sire, not if the lady in question is nowhere to be found."

Arthur leapt from his bed and stalked up to Merlin, trying to ignore the niggling worry that something was terribly wrong. No, he thought, this was down to Merlin's ineptitude. She must just be visiting a neighbour and his lack of brains meant he had not bothered to ask for her around the town.

"I'd better not find out you've been in the tavern all this time, Merlin!"

Merlin put his hands on his hips and attempted to return the king's angry stare with one of his own. He had had just about enough of this false notion he frequented the tavern. He knew Gaius had tried to be helpful in providing a convenient reason for the occasions when he went missing for long periods, but it did not do his standing with Arthur any good at all.

"I have been all over the palace, and spoken to the servants Gwen works with. Not one of them has seen Gwen since the day before your army left Camelot."

"She's not been seen in all that time?"

Merlin wondered how else he could phrase his report to make it clearer. He was worried enough about Gwen and Arthur was not helping; in fact he seemed particularly obtuse that morning. He spoke slowly hoping that would help get the message across, "Gwen has not been seen at the palace since the day before you left to face the threat from Caerleon."

"Have you been to her house yet?"

"No my lord, I haven't had time to check there."

"Then go there right now, and I want a report as soon as possible."

"I ran into Lord Agravaine on the way here; he said that the council are waiting for you in the throne room. His lordship wanted to know how long it would be before you joined them."

Arthur groaned in frustration as he suddenly remembered that a further meeting had been organised for first thing that morning. Surely, he thought, the Caerleon issue had already been discussed to death last night. His mind was too focused on Guinevere and finding out where she was, to be bothered about anything else.

"Sire I'll get you dressed, and then I can bring you any news during the meeting." Merlin suggested

Arthur was torn for an instant between his duty and his concern for Guinevere, she won.

"It may come as a surprise to you, but I can dress myself. Go directly to Guinevere's house and report back to the throne room. I will deal with the councillors; there will be no more meetings until I am sure she is safe."

Merlin seemed to be glued to the spot in shock when he should be rushing to carry out his king's orders. Arthur surmised that the revelation he could throw on some clothes all by himself had left his servant dumbfounded.

"Go now, without delay!" Arthur shouted, starting to advance on Merlin with menace. His tactic had the desired affect, as his servant was startled into action and ran out of the room at speed.

Arthur threw on some clothes, found his socks and boots and grabbing a belt headed towards the throne room, at a run. He burst into the room at such a pace he managed to wake up some of the older courtiers. His uncle, however, kept his composure, as he stood in front of the throne with his arms crossed, looking suitably unimpressed by Arthur's tardiness.

"Good of you to join us sire," Agravaine said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

The councillors joined in, murmuring their disapproval.

Arthur decided to ignore his uncle's rudeness and addressed the gathering as a whole, "There will be no council meeting this morning, there is another more urgent matter that I must deal with. You are all dismissed."

The councillors shuffled out, all looking miffed at being dealt with so summarily. That was all apart from his uncle, who had made the assumption Arthur's order did not apply to him.

Once they were alone, Lord Agravaine regarded his nephew closely. He had an idea what this _matter_ was about, having made discrete enquiries with one or two of the palace servants in his pay, which had established that Gwen had not been seen for several days. Agravaine was therefore itching to find out if the rest of his plan had worked, but had not yet had an opportunity to slip away from the palace.

Arthur began pacing the room seemingly oblivious to his uncle's presence, an action which highlighted his agitated state.

Agravaine decided that it was as good a time as any to try and find out what Arthur knew about Gwen's disappearance.

"Is there something troubling you, sire? Can I be of assistance?" He asked in his most solicitous tone.

Arthur paused in mid stride, unsure if he wished to share his concerns with his uncle. Agravaine was unlikely to understand Arthur's worry for a woman his uncle had been so keen be set aside. Moreover he would not be impressed to learn that Arthur had decided to reject his counsel and try to win Guinevere back. However, he was unwilling to keep his uncle completely in the dark, as to his intentions.

"Uncle, I accepted your advice to end my relationship with Guinevere, although you must understand it went against my personal wishes."

"It was a brave decision my boy, one which I know you understand was for the good of the kingdom."

"Well you need to know that my feelings for Guinevere have not changed."

Agravaine felt in his element, he could play the role of diplomat until the cows came home. Given his plot to get rid of Gwen looked to be a success, he was already patting himself on the back and that made playing the concerned uncle so much easier to bear.

"Of course, you cannot be expected to shut off your feelings. We must begin the search for a suitable princess to share your throne soon, one who will come with a dowry large enough to enrich the kingdom's coffers. You are a very lucky young man; every king with a daughter of marriageable age will be clamouring for your attention. And once you are married, you can put the unfortunate dalliance with the serving girl behind you."

"In good time uncle, I have just learned that Guinevere has not been seen at the palace for a number of days."

"Ah, perhaps I can…"

Without warning the doors swung open and Merlin, accompanied by a pensive looking Elyan, entered the throne room.

Lord Agravaine scowled at Merlin, not bothering to hide his distaste for this meddlesome upstart of a servant.

Arthur, who was too worried about Guinevere to notice his uncle's reaction, advanced on the two men.

"Elyan, Merlin, what have you found out?"

"Elyan has been searching for Gwen as well; we met at her house. The fire grate is stone cold my lord; she can't have been there for some time."

"No one has any idea where she might be, sire. I know my sister and she would never go off without letting me know her plans." Elyan added his concern for his sister obvious from the worried tone of his voice.

Although he accepted that Guinevere had good cause to be angry with him and therefore might not want to see him, the idea that she had left Camelot caused Arthur so much pain he could barely breathe. He felt honour bound to admit his part in her disappearance to Elyan; wanting to let her brother know what had transpired between them. "Guinevere may have felt she had good reason to leave, Elyan. Before we left Camelot I had to tell her that our relationship was over…"

Elyan stared at Arthur in shocked disbelief as he retorted, "You did what! After all she has done for you, how could you treat Gwen like that?"

"Remember that you are addressing your _King,_" Agravaine said, moving to stand between Arthur and Elyan. "His decision was made for the good of the kingdom and will not be questioned by the _likes_ of you."

Elyan looked angry enough with Agravaine to start a fight, his hand instinctively gripping the pommel of his sword. His Lordship mirrored the action as they squared off against each other.

"Uncle, Elyan has every right to be angry; I've caused his sister hurt, so there's no need to defend me. Anyway weren't you about to tell me something when Merlin and Elyan first arrived?"

Agravaine turned to face his nephew, and Merlin got the distinct feeling he was not happy Arthur had remembered that fact. That impression was borne out by his reply, "I would prefer to discuss the matter with you alone, sire."

"If it concerns Guinevere then Merlin and Elyan should hear it too."

"Very well, but Elyan I expect you to keep control of your temper and remember that I have only ever acted in your sister's best interests."

Elyan gave his agreement to stay silent with a curt nod, keen to hear what Agravaine had to say. Particularly as he already knew Gwen distrusted Arthur's uncle.

"As I knew of your intentions with regard to Gwen, I thought it would be a kind gesture to offer her a sum of money for her service to Camelot. This she accepted gratefully, saying that she could use some of the gift to visit a relative. I got the distinct impression she wanted to leave the citadel for a time. I can give you no further information, except to say that she was grateful for the money and thought she would use it to start a new life elsewhere. I'm afraid I encouraged her, Arthur. It seemed to me that it was the best solution; for the two of you to have some time apart."

Arthur stared at his uncle with growing dismay, wondering why he had chosen to take that action, without consulting him first.

"Why didn't you mention this to me before?"

"I did not wish to trouble you sire, given your feelings for the lady. I hope that I have not done anything wrong. Please remember that I only wish to serve you, my dead sister's only child, to the best of my ability. I thought it fair and just to thank Gwen with a remittance befitting her loyal service to the Pendragon family."

Giving Guinevere money had not occurred to Arthur at the time, and he wondered if he had let her down by not considering what her future without him would be like. He glanced over at Merlin, but his servant was an unreadable book for once, his thoughts carefully hidden behind a neutral expression. Arthur was desolate at the idea that he had lost his love, and he reached out to his uncle, wanting to thank him for having the grace to think about Guinevere's welfare.

"Dear uncle I understand why you took that action; it was kind of you to think…"

"Except Gwen and I have no other living relatives, so how do you explain that!" Elyan shouted out, unable to contain his anger for an instant longer.

"I cannot be expected to remember every detail of that evening and I warn you not interrupt your king again, _Sir_ Elyan."

"I don't believe a single word of your story; and I repeat that Gwen would not go anywhere without first leaving me word."

Agravaine was furious and he looked like he was going to do Elyan some harm, so Arthur stepped in to restrain him by grabbing hold of his sword arm.

"Well I do not appreciate being called a liar, certainly not by the son of a _Blacksmith_." Agravaine snarled back at Elyan.

"That is enough, uncle!" Arthur exclaimed, frustrated by Agravaine's need to constantly remind Elyan of his humble beginnings, as if his honourable service as a knight of Camelot meant nothing.

Arthur decided he had to get his uncle to leave, so that he could get a chance to talk to Elyan, "Uncle, I would appreciate it if you could start the inventory of Camelot's armoury we discussed last night. It is a matter of great concern to me and I want you to start immediately. Merlin, make further enquiries in the town to find out if anyone knows where Guinevere was planning to go."

Elyan walked up to Arthur, and Merlin could see that his eyes blazed with anger as he addressed his king, his voice trembling with raw emotion, "Sire, I'm afraid you've abdicated your right to be concerned for my sister; she is now solely my responsibility and I alone will deal with this matter and ensure her safety."

Outraged by the way in which Elyan had dared to speak to his king, Lord Agravaine moved faster than Merlin ever thought possible for someone of his age, brutally shoving Elyan away from Arthur and throwing him against one of the stone pillars. Then he firmly held the shocked young man at bay with an arm rammed across his throat, as he spat out his words with all the venom of a snake, "Remember, you are a sworn knight of Camelot, so you will do as the king commands or suffer the consequences!"

Elyan quickly came to his senses and shook himself free of Agravaine's grip pushing him back in a furious rage, and then he ripped his honourably won Pendragon cloak from his shoulders.

"But if I renounce my oath I am no longer a sworn knight!"

He threw the cloak at Agravaine's feet and without waiting for permission to leave, stormed out of the room.

Merlin looked at Arthur and could tell he was furious at his uncle's actions from the grim look etched on his face.

Agravaine had not noticed the king's mood; he was too angry at the insults he had suffered.

"Give the order sire and I will have that upstart arrested for his insolence."

Although emotionally caught up in worry for Guinevere and the scene he had just witnessed, Arthur still managed to speak with the quiet determination of a man who expected to be obeyed, "I want no action taken against Elyan, uncle. Is that understood? I have already entrusted you with a matter that is of great import to me, and I expect you to carry it out to the best of your ability."

Agravaine finally seemed to get the message that he had gone too far, and his face paled.

"Yes my lord, I will attend to the matter at once." Lord Agravaine grovelled, bowing deeply and than walking a few steps backwards in deference to the royal presence, before leaving.

When only the king and his servant were left in the chamber, Merlin could no longer hold back his indignation at Arthur's actions.

"Elyan is right, how could you do that to Gwen, after everything the two of you have been through!"

"I don't have to answer to you."

"No, and that's a pity because Gwen's gone and it's all your fault, whatever were you thinking…sire!"

"Merlin!" There was a warning tone in Arthur's voice, which Merlin had enough sense to pay attention to.

"Just because I let Elyan speak to me without constraint, it does not mean you have the same freedom. In fact, another word from you and I will have you thrown in a cell. Now do you understand, or do you have something you wish to add?"

Merlin bit his lip as he slowly shook his head.

"Good, I need you to make enquiries in town to find out what you can about Guinevere. And if you run into Elyan, try and get him to see sense."

"May I speak now, my lord?"

"Yes, but take care, Merlin."

"You want Gwen back?"

"Yes, if she'll have me."

"Well that's the first sensible thing you've said this morning, sire."

Arthur had a look of a man at the end of his tether, so having had the last word Merlin sprinted for the exit before the king had time to call for the guards to drag him away.

As soon as he was alone, Arthur walked to his throne and slumped down on the seat, the pain which had been gnawing at his heart now seemed ready to shatter it into tiny pieces. In frustration he slammed his fist into the side of a wooden armrest so hard the panel splintered. Then he leant forward, cupping his injured hand in his other one as he cried out in pain, "Guinevere, please come back to me!"

The heavy silence that greeted his desperate plea, made Arthur feel that all hope was lost. His world had darkened and become a smaller and meaner place, because he had lost the one woman he had ever truly loved.


	6. Chapter 6

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin, I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

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**Chapter Six**

* * *

Lord Agravaine paused at the dilapidated doorway to Lady Morgana's sole domain; the meagre refuge her reduced circumstances had forced upon her, deep in the forest. He had to steel himself for whatever mood she was likely to be in, in case he had to cross swords with her, only metaphorically he hoped. It should not be like that, given they were supposed to be on the same side, but Agravaine knew Morgana did not take disappointment well.

He knocked on the door and then without waiting for permission to enter, gingerly pushed the door open to see Morgana standing warming her hands at a fire brazier in the centre of the gloomy interior.

"Morgana, I have news," he said advancing hopefully towards her.

"I certainly hope so, because I expected to see you long before now, Lord Agravaine. I can't help but wonder if your resolve has weakened. Could it be that you have developed some sympathy for my _little_ brother, your nephew?"

Agravaine made a feeble attempt at a bow. Her words made him nervous, while just being in her presence filled him with such an overwhelming feeling of awe it caused him physical pain; little did Morgana suspect that she was only the second woman to have so powerful an affect on him.

"Well?"

"No, no, no my dear lady, I assure you that my loyalty to you is constant."

Morgana turned from the warming blaze to scrutinise the weak fool of a man grovelling in front of her. As long as he continued to be of use, Morgana would tolerate him, although recent events had stretched her patience almost to its limit. Still, Morgana knew that she did not have to reveal the contempt she felt him and all of his sex, in order to have some sport watching his lordship squirm.

"You'll forgive me, but your decision to swear loyalty to me remains a puzzle. _my_ lord."

Agravaine groaned inwardly, aware that if only he could bear to reveal a terrible secret from his past, Morgana would understand him and accept his help without question. Yet that hurt had been deeply hidden for so long, he doubted that even he, with his silver tongue, could find the words to explain why it was so important to be in her service. Morgana brightened his existence almost as much as the lady he would mourn for the rest of his life: a woman who had been stolen from him by Uther and consumed in the flames of his great purge. So, as he chose to remain silent on that matter, repeatedly telling his lady that he was her loyal servant would just have to suffice. After all Morgana was questioning his faithfulness, because yet again she had watched a carefully laid plan go awry.

The hovel was dark and so damp there was a air smelt musty, and Agravaine worried the place was hardly good for his lady's health. He felt the icy coldness starting to seep into his aging bones and make him shiver. So in order to respond to her query to the best of his ability, he dared to ask the lady Morgana for an indulgence.

"I am sure I can assure you of my continuing loyalty, but may I first warm myself at the fire?"

Morgana did not bother to look him in the eye as with the smallest nod of her head she agreed to his request. In that way, she made it plain how displeased she was with him, while remembering that his lordship _had_ promised he had news for her.

Agravaine approached his mistress with caution. As always when he was in her dangerous presence, the terror he felt at the thought she could strike him down at any second was an oddly pleasurable one. To be close to Morgana was all he wished for; it was everything to him and he never felt more alive than when he could gaze at the woman he loved more than life itself.

As he sat down on a stool and thrust his hands at the fire to try and warm them, Agravaine decided that the best way to assure her was with a simple statement of his fidelity.

"You know I've never had any love for your father. I despise Uther for his cruelty towards those poor unfortunates, who died terribly just because they had the precious gift of magic."

"But magic also took your sister's life, surely that is reason enough for you to hate those who practice this art?"

"No my lady, I see you misunderstand me. I detest how Uther selfishly used magic to beget a son and heir, and that my dear sister had to pay for that decision with her life. When I look at Arthur, all I see is what comes of magic used to satisfy the desires of a ruthless king. Uther should never have made that bargain with Nimueh, not when he already had a living child he could name as his heir."

"Well, that is a pretty speech my lord," Morgana mockingly replied, slowly clapping her hands together. "So _why_ did our plan fail, tell me _why_ there was no battle?"

"Arthur acted on his own; he has this inexplicable need to offer up his own life in the place of those who serve him. He has strange ideas for a king, knighting common men, consorting with the daughter of a Blacksmith, to name but a few."

Agravaine shrugged his shoulders; to emphasis he had been powerless to stop Arthur's mad behaviour as he finished his explanation: "To be honest, my lady, I don't know what else I could have done; there are times I find it hard to believe that he is truly Uther's son!"

Morgana narrowed her eyes at her incompetent servant, and for a moment nothing could be heard in the chilly silence she had conjured up, apart from the crackling of burning kindling in the metal brazier. Then she decided to remind the idiot what his job was supposed to be: "You have to try harder to ensure Arthur continues to make the wrong decisions, so that he can look as foolish as possible. He may have returned to Camelot with a _victory of sorts_, but I don't consider that alone is enough to prove to the people that he can ever be an able king."

"Yes my lady," Agravaine said, allowing himself to breathe a little more easily; hoping that the storm had passed.

"Tell me, did you know that Gwen had left Camelot?"

Agravaine smiled broadly, feeling as though he could really relax now as his plan to get rid of Morgana's former maidservant had indeed gone well.

"Yes my lady, most humbly, I can claim to be solely responsible for her departure. You won't be troubled by her again. I gave the lady just cause as well as the means with which to run away from her precious Arthur, and then arranged for her to meet with an unfortunate and permanent end."

"Then you are to be congratulated my lord Agravaine. Arthur will be heartbroken if she is lost forever. Will you _share_ a drink with me to celebrate this small success?"

Agravaine hesitated for a moment, the danger was suddenly palpable and he was forced to quickly review their conversation before he dared make a response. He was looking for clues that he had made a wrong step; said anything that could have displeased the woman he loved more than life itself.

"It would seem you don't trust _me, _my lord?"

Despite his closeness to the fire, Agravaine felt as though his blood had turned to ice, surely his plan had not gone wrong? Deciding that retreat was the only choice, he quickly replied, "Yes, of course I trust you, my lady. However, as much as I would love to stay longer, we really don't want my absence from Camelot to be noticed and questions asked, do we?."

He really is a dolt, Morgana thought, just like every other foolish man in her life. If only she had been born a man, Morgana knew she would not be sitting in this hovel right now. Uther would have named her as his heir if she had been the right sex, and then the small matter of her illegitimacy could easily have been disregarded. Morgana stood up and advanced on Agravaine, who cowered as he recognised the full extent of her rage. She took satisfaction from knowing he was helpless against her power; she could strike him dead with a mere flick of her wrist.

"Your paid men failed. So yet again you have failed me, my lord! I intervened after Gwen failed to go along with your preposterous plan. _Really _Agravaine what were you thinking; any woman from Camelot with a grain of sense knows to steer clear of that viper's nest; The Silver Horseshoe. However, all was not lost, for with my help your mercenaries were able to find Gwen, but then they could not kill her. Or should I say, they were so inept they let her slip through their clumsy fingers!"

Morgana grabbed hold of Agravaine by the collar of his jacket, lifting him to his feet, as if he weighed nothing more than a feather, while he quivered with fear. Her face was so close to his, Agravaine could feel her hot breath caressing his cheek, so he could be in doubt as to her anger. He thought she looked magnificent as her eyes glistened with menace. Even if he was to die, Agravaine felt happy to have experienced the full wonder of her power so close.

Morgana spoke quietly to the man she held in the trap, which she could chose to snap shut at any moment, "Luckily for you, my lord, I have friends in the south, _good _friends whom I can trust to know which end of a sword is deadly. Early this morning I sent a raven with my instructions and this time I know those orders will be carried out to my satisfaction. Gwen thinks she is safe, but she doesn't know that a trap is closing in around her and the poor fool who has offered her protection."

"I, I…if I could have been there, m…my lady, Gwen would already be dead. I will not fail you again, you have my word." Agravaine managed to stutter, his mind reeling with the news that _his_ lady had formed some sort of alliance with men unknown to him. It made him feel that his position was even more precarious and he did not like that one little bit.

Morgana released her hold on him and walked away; leaving Agravaine to regain his battered composure, while straightening his clothing.

"I really should be getting back to Camelot, unless there is anything I can do for you, anything at all?"

Morgana laughed prettily and Agravaine felt a thrill that was part fear and part excitement at her reaction.

"You should go; we don't want you being missed, _do we_? Your task is to hinder Arthur's search for his beloved and give my men time to ensure he will never see her again."

"You can count on me, my lady." Agravaine stated with fervent intent.

As Agravaine left his love behind, and closed the door of the hovel to step out into bright sunshine he felt a moment of desolation. Regardless of any humiliation he had been subjected to, Agravaine always felt invigorated by being in Morgana's presence, it made him ready to face whatever irritations the rest of the day would bring. It was as though he had been duelling with a beautiful but deadly dragon and while he had been ever so slightly scorched, had still survived the experience.

Agravaine smiled to himself, thinking that the comparison was rather apt considering Morgana was a Pendragon.

* * *

Elyan had run straight to the citadel courtyard and leapt on the first saddled horse he came across, galloping hard out of Camelot's open gates. He briefly questioned his chosen course of action when he came to the first crossroads, but with his blood still boiling with outrage at the way his sister had been treated, it took only a moment before he was urging the horse forward on the road that led east away from Camelot. It was only much later, after a hard ride that he finally cleared his head sufficiently to question what on earth he thought he was doing. Elyan abruptly pulled on the horse's reins to bring it to a halt and dismally regarded the flat marshy plains on either side of the road that stretched off into the distance. There was no reason that he could think of, for Gwen to have chosen to travel this road, or any road for that matter.

If truth be told, Elyan knew very little of Gwen's life, having left Camelot and his father behind as soon as he could wield a sword to protect himself. He had grown up on the road, travelling aimlessly to whatever new adventure awaited him over the horizon. It was his constant battles with his father that had forced Elyan to leave; or at least that was what he had always told himself. The truth was simpler, though he had never owned up to it, even to Gwen; wanderlust was a strong force in him. It was as though he had been searching for something all his life, which remained just out of reach, like his mother who only existed for Elyan in the stories Gwen had told him.

As a result of his travels, he had experienced so much and lived more intensely than any of his childhood friends. And whenever there had been an inkling of homesickness he had always comforted himself with the knowledge that Gwen was at home supporting their father. And whenever he had wanted to return to Camelot; he knew that Gwen would welcome him back without question. Elyan had valued that knowledge so much he found it difficult to cope with the situation being reversed. He felt that he had let his sister down by not being there for her; for not being a person she could trust to confide her woes to.

So Elyan found himself alone in this vast wasteland and as he faced his fear that his dear sweet sister might be lost forever, he let his tears fall unchecked.

With the cooling of his temper, came the realisation that before he could be of any help to Gwen he had to return to Camelot and see if he could find out where she had gone. Elyan turned the borrowed horse around and rode it just as hard until in he finally arrived back outside his family home. He noticed Merlin loitering near the tavern just up the way, but he went straight into the cottage, hoping that ignoring the servant would give sufficient warning that he did not want to have to talk to or see anyone associated with Arthur.

But of course Merlin took no notice of Elyan's snub; indeed he seemed to take it as an invitation to enter the cottage. He came barging in while Elyan was still looking around the simple residence, taking in everything that reminded him of Gwen and their father.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners Merlin? I didn't ask for your company, I want to be left in peace in _my_ family home."

"Sorry, but I don't have time to waste on your feelings. Why did you come back anyway?" Merlin said as he started to open cupboard doors and rummage through the contents.

"I was right about the lack of manners then …what do you think you're doing!" Elyan yelled as a clay tankard fell onto the flagstone floor with a crack.

"I believe Gwen is in terrible danger, Elyan. I found out she purchased a horse from Withell and also that a stranger or two has been asking questions in the town about where she went."

In shock at the news Merlin had just imparted, Elyan staggered back against the table that stood in the centre of the cottage, as if he had actually taken a punch to his gut.

"Gwen's in danger because Arthur is the King of Camelot, isn't she?" Elyan whispered in terror as the reality of his sister's perilous situation started to become very clear to him.

"Yes, she would be a valuable prize for anyone who wanted to strike at Arthur."

Elyan gasped as he felt the full horror of Merlin's meaning; his sister had literally been thrown to the wolves.

"Arthur hasn't got a clue what he's done, what could happen to her. Gwen probably left to get away from the gossip. Few would say anything directly to her face while she was under the king's protection, but now…"

Merlin looked round from emptying a large chest of clothing and linens and regarded Elyan, his patience sorely tried by the man's pitiful moaning, "Look, we can only guess why Gwen left, what we need to find out is where she went. Withell said she was vague about that, but he also said that Gwen indicated she was heading south. So if you have any helpful ideas I'd love to hear them, otherwise you'd best stay quiet while I tear this place apart."

"But why would Withell think Gwen was going south? I only came back to Camelot because I have no idea where she could have gone. I thought just being here might help me decide what to do next."

When Merlin did not answer, Elyan turned his attention back to the cottage. Everything that Merlin had yet to touch was still neatly in its place. Then his eyes came to rest on some sacks of grain that were resting against the back wall of the cottage. Suddenly it came to him that his father's secret cubby hole was located beneath one of those sacks. Elyan was happy to finally have a purpose as he strode up to the sacks and started pulling one of them away from the portion of floor that was of interest to him. Annoyingly, Merlin had stopped tearing the cottage apart and was now showing a keen interest in what he was doing. Elyan ignored the presence of the king's dogsbody and used his dagger to help lift the flagstone that hid the metal box where his family kept items of value. Merlin was kneeling beside him as he lifted out the beautifully crafted iron box from its hiding place. Elyan then carried it to the table where he set it down before going to the chest Merlin had already rifled through. He could not help feeling pride at his father's cleverness as he lifted up the false bottom so that he could press the hidden lever that released a small drawer built into the base of the chest. There were some old letters in the drawer and a finely wrought steel key designed with a complicated set of notches and slots. Elyan took the key over to the box and slipped it into the lock on the side, turning it until the lid clicked open. Inside, he saw a letter addressed to him in Gwen's hand along with a bulging red velvet money pouch.

Merlin looked like he wanted to pounce on the letter so Elyan snatched it from the box and turned his back on him before opening it; he wanted to be the first to know Gwen's intentions. He broke the wax seal while remaining on guard to any movement from Merlin and started to read…

'_My dear Elyan_

_If you are reading this letter then you already know I have decided to leave Camelot for a while. I am sorry that I could not wait until your return and I do not want you to be concerned. I have one of father's swords with me and I will not hesitate to use it if need be. _

_I know you may think that I have acted rashly for leaving the safety of home when Camelot is threatened with the upheaval of war, but I must to go for reasons I cannot explain just now. _

_I am going to visit an old friend, Blythe. Do you remember she liked to tease you about how small you were and your shyness? I will enjoy telling her that you are now a knight of Camelot! She married a man in the service of King Wilfred and went to live in Deawlisc, in the Kingdom of Dewnens, so I will seek her out there. _

_I want to imagine you reading this letter with a smile on your face at your sister's sudden desire to see the world. Please do not fear, for one day I intend to return to you, Camelot, our home and friends._

_In the meantime I will draw strength and pride from your continuing loyal service to King Arthur and Camelot. _

_Your ever loving sister_

_Guinevere.'_

"Well Elyan…Elyan, did Gwen say where she was planning to go!"

Glaring at the annoying busybody bobbing from foot to foot in front of him, Elyan quickly refolded the letter and clutched it tightly in his hand. He was unwilling to share the contents with Merlin, because the last thing he wanted was for Arthur to get involved and insist that he had the right to rescue Gwen. It was still clear in Elyan's mind that Arthur had forfeited that honour when he had rejected Gwen and left her exposed to terrible danger.

"That is my business, now let me pass Merlin. I don't want to hurt you, but if you try to stop me I will not hesitate to hurt you if need be!"

The last thing Elyan heard before Gwen's metal flower vase was smashed against the side of his head was Merlin's cheery response, "Sorry, can't let you do that!"

* * *

When Elyan opened his eyes the world was spinning much to fast and for a moment or two he was unsure where he was or what had happened. Then he noticed three shapes leaning over him and because they looked vaguely human he did his best to focus on them.

"Oh, someone's coming round. That was one nasty knock on the head Merlin gave him, must be stronger than he looks."

"Or more likely Sir Elyan's head is _softer_ than it looks."

"Now, now Perceval, Gwaine, there's no need for that, I'm sure Merlin did not mean to hit Elyan quite as hard as he did. How are you feeling, Elyan?"

When Elyan squinted at the grey form looming over him, he realised that the court physician, Gaius, was leaning forward to exam the side of his head that had taken the brunt of the metal vase.

"Very funny…," Elyan exclaimed, through the pain of a Merlin induced headache, as he responded to Gwaine's charming comment about his head. He scrunched up his eyes against the light streaming in from the window and everything suddenly became achingly clear. He raised himself carefully from the stone floor onto his elbows and regarded the two knights gazing down at him. Sir Gwaine was perched on the edge of the table while Sir Perceval was standing at the other side, a friendly looking giant from Elyan's dizzy perspective on the floor. Elyan tried to reckon as best he could with his befuddled mind exactly how long he had been knocked out. His two friends, and once fellow knights, gave the impression, from their relaxed attitude, that they had been there for some time. Suddenly he remembered Gwen's letter, but a quick check of his person revealed that it was gone. He knew for certain that Merlin had taken it directly to Arthur. Angry at Merlin's betrayal, Elyan eyed Perceval and Gwaine with suspicion, wondering why they were there watching over him.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Only if you really want to be, then I'm sure that could be arranged. But Arthur would rather you come with us to find Gwen." Gwaine said, smiling down at Elyan who had slumped back onto the floor.

"There is no need for anyone else to get involved; I am perfectly capable of finding my own sister."

"You really don't have any say in the matter, does he Perceval?"

Perceval nodded his head in agreement as Gwaine offered Elyan a hand to stand up, which he accepted, all be it reluctantly.

"Merlin had better look out, because so help me I'm going to get him for this." Elyan muttered, as swaying slightly, he gingerly followed the other three out of Gwen's home.

* * *

Gwen and Galahad had left Camelot behind them early in the morning and were currently travelling through in the Kingdom of Gawant, which was King Godwyn the Good's domain. They had decided to abandon the old Roman road, which was the main thoroughfare, to make it more difficult for anyone to follow them. The rough tracks they were using instead had been carved by travellers, who over the centuries had traversed the ancient and massive forest that also covered the southern uplands of Camelot. So Gwen only knew that she was no longer under the jurisdiction of Camelot law when she saw a small shield with the Gawant crest: a golden bushel of wheat against a green background, hammered into a tree trunk beside the narrow track.

Having to keep away from the main road south meant it would take them longer to get to Deawlisc, but it was a much safer route. Gwen took comfort from the fact she had only told her brother where she was going and she was sure he could be trusted to keep that information safe. Thinking about Elyan, Gwen wondered what he would make of her situation at that moment. She was sure he would be horrified at how dangerous her journey had become and to whom she was entrusting her life. The gangly boy, who thought he was already a man, was testing her patience to the very limit. His promise not to ask her too many questions about the famous knights of Camelot had long been forgotten. It was only the innocent enthusiasm with which he greeted every answer Gwen provided, that stopped her from loosing her temper. He had asked her about every foe he had heard tales about, but the attack on Camelot by a real fire breathing dragon was of particularly interest to the boy. By the end of his insistent questioning Gwen was ruing the mistake of ever mentioning that she had witnessed the attack. She had been required to provide a blow by blow account of every detail, including most exasperatingly, a description of the said dragon. At the time Gwen had certainly not been interested in what it looked like, preferring to run for her life, but she tried her best to satisfy his curiosity. Of course when Galahad heard that King Arthur had personally saved her from the dragon's fiery breath he was almost overcome with excitement. He droned on about that detail for so long that Gwen was driven to resorting to the childish tactic of ignoring him. When he finally got the message and lapsed into silence, it was a blessed relief, although she could not help feeling a little guilty for her lack of patience.

According to Galahad, they were travelling in a south westerly direction, but Gwen was not sure how he could possibly know that fact. In places the vegetation was so thick on the lower slopes of the mountains; the sun was blocked from view and the path so narrow it was oppressive. Even the horses were skittish when they entered those areas where the air was full of moisture, droplets of water continuously dripped from leaf to leaf and the ground under the horses' hoofs was muddy and overgrown. Gwen at least had eaten well that morning, as Galahad had turned out to be an excellent hunter, spearing a good sized rabbit for their breakfast. She had found some mushrooms to have with the meat and they had eaten their fill before setting out on their journey.

Finally when they reached a broad valley where the trees were more spaced out; allowing the sunlight to reach the ground and brighten the trail ahead, Gwen felt she could relax a little. She allowed the gentle rocking rhythm of Serenity to calm her mind, as following behind Galahad, as they made their way along a wider path with tracks that showed carts regularly went that way. As they were just about to descend a slope leading from higher ground, Gwen suddenly spied in the distance, a small flock of birds rising above trees in a swirling motion. They had been disturbed from their perches and were signalling that there was danger ahead. Galahad, having seen the same warning as Gwen, reined in Cadfael and turned his horse around to draw level with her.

"Looks like we will be having company shortly," Galahad said in a low tone, looking at the track ahead with concern, although there was nothing to see as yet. "I suggest that we err on the side of caution and get off this track and into the forest."

Gwen nodded her agreement with this plan, unable to help the tremor of fear that ran through her as she remembered the ruthless and bloody attack on the travelling troupe.

They immediately executed their plan, dismounting and moving as quietly and quickly as possible away from the recognised right of way. Galahad was frantically looking for any sort of cover as they heard the approaching sound of hooves beating a fast rhythm on the track. That noise alone was enough to tell them that a group of riders were approaching at speed. Galahad grabbed hold of Gwen and pulled her down beside him into a hollow just as the men came into view. Whoever they were, the five riders Gwen saw galloping along the trail were definitely not knights of Gawant. They wore leather protectors rather than the chainmail and metal armour of a knight and there were no emblems displayed on their person or shields to proclaim their allegiance to a lord.

"Bandits I think, my lady." Galahad whispered, as he watched the men ride off into the distance.

"I agree, but can we be sure they are hunting for me?"

"It would be best to avoid contact with them just in case, they do not have the look of honourable men to me!" Galahad said as he stood up and scanned the immediate area looking to see if there was a good way through the forest, given that the track was no longer safe for them. He knew it had been sheer luck the riders had not looked in their direction or spotted their horses. He decided they should go deeper into the forest to keep them hidden from anyone using the track.

"Follow me, my lady, we must go quickly!"

Gwen tugged Serenity's reins to get her horse moving and fell in behind Galahad. She had long since given up on getting him to call her by her given name, even though his constant reference to her being a lady was beginning to grate on her nerves. It did not help that his chivalry reminded her of someone she had loved once, a true and noble knight regardless that he had been born of common stock. She wondered if perhaps this was why hearing Galahad call her a lady grated as much as it did. Sir Lancelot was the first person apart from her family and close friends to consider her as more than just a simple servant. Yet Lancelot's grace and concern for others had come naturally to him, for all he lacked noble birth. Galahad was noble born and Gwen decided his manners were practised rather than used with any real feeling behind them. Although she reminded herself that he was just a boy, who had learnt how a knight should behave from the tales of chivalry from wandering minstrels and she knew that inspite of his pretentiousness he meant well.

As they continued on their journey, the sounds she heard were indistinct at first, just faint noises carried on the wind. Then Gwen recognised what sounded like a pack of hunting dogs barking with excitement as they picked up a scent. The noise was coming from behind them and getting closer. Galahad turned round to listen and they exchanged silent worried glances. There was still nowhere for them to hide safely and it would be dangerous to ride the horses on the rough ground with hidden cavities and roots to catch their hooves and throw an unwary rider.

All they could do was to keep moving, even though they could now hear people on foot crashing through the undergrowth in front of them. It was as though a net was closing in around their position. Then Gwen noticed for the first time that wisps of mist were rising from the ground. It did not seem to be a natural event as the sun was still beating down on them from its highest point, but it was undeniable that the mist was growing thicker and was already at Gwen's knees when Galahad threw her a questioning glance.

"This can't be right, I think we should turn back?" he said in a low voice.

Gwen looked back the way they had come, only to see that the mist behind them was already obscuring the tops of the trees they had just passed.

"No, I think we have no choice but to keep going, "Gwen whispered in reply, as she patted Serenity, who was as spooked as she was by the strange white clouds, which were billowing up much faster now from the earth.

If anything the mist was scarier than the voices of the men and barking dogs now circling them, because they sounded muffled as though they came from behind a thick woollen curtain. Then Gwen started to feel really panicked when the white haze, reached her waist as it felt like she was being engulfed by a living creature that was slowly snaking around her body intent on striking her down.

"There is higher ground ahead, I suggest we head for it," Galahad instructed, pointing to the top of a mound where there was only a thin layer of the mysterious substance swirling between the tree trunks. Gwen could tell from the tension in his voice that Galahad was also scared by the strange phenomenon surrounding them.

Then Galahad halted so suddenly Gwen almost stumbled into the back end of his horse.

"What's the matter, why have you stopped?" she hissed at him, impatient for this nightmare to be over.

Galahad did not say a word, he simply moved to the side to allow Gwen a clear view of the way ahead. Gwen gasped in fear as she took in the tall silent figure blocking their way. She recognised that he was wearing robes that marked him out as a druid; a man of the old religion. He represented all that Gwen had been taught to fear from childhood. The man looked directly at her and all Gwen wanted to do was run for her life. Unfortunately her legs refused to cooperate with her desperate desire to flee.

The man's eyes had such a hypnotic quality she could not turn her eyes from his gaze and Gwen started to feel very drowsy. Galahad came towards her with his arms stretched out in front of him as though he was trying to reach her, but his movements were slow as though he was walking through thick honey. She saw Galahad's mouth moving but could not make out what he was trying to say to her, although Gwen got the impression he was shouting a warning that she should run away.

The druid lifted his arms up to the sky and Gwen felt her feet leave the security of solid ground and suddenly she was floating, only able to see the blue sky above her, as she was being carried on rolling tendrils of mist towards the druid sorcerer. There was nothing Gwen could do against his power as she heard the druid utter words in a language she did not understand. In her dreamlike state, Gwen could only register that the golden glow from his eyes was similar to young Ruan's when he had used magic to make fire. Just before her eyes closed it seemed to Gwen that she was falling through the white clouds of mist and then she felt nothing more.


	7. Chapter 7

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin, I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

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Arthur did not spare his horse as he led the way at a hard gallop down the old south road. Travelling with him were his three most trusted knights; Sirs Leon, Gwaine and Perceval; as well as the former knight, Elyan, and of course the king's manservant Merlin.

Before agreeing to join them on their journey, Elyan had vented his anger at Merlin, accusing him of betraying Gwen's trust. Arthur had tried to intervene as the former knight publicly berated his manservant in Camelot's courtyard, but in the end it was Gwaine who was able to step in and calm the situation in his usual good humoured way. Although Elyan had agreed to travel south with them, he refused to have anything to do with Merlin. He also made demands of Arthur, speaking to him in such a forthright way; Sir Leon had been heard to gasp in shock. However, Arthur had meekly let Elyan vent his anger at him; accepting he had just cause for his fury as Arthur's shameful treatment of his sister had endangered her life.

When Lord Agravaine came running from the palace to join them, they had just finished their preparations for the journey ahead and were about to leave the citadel. He had pleaded to be allowed to accompany them, but Arthur insisted that he stay behind to act on the king's behalf and protect the interests of Camelot.

Agravaine had then begged that at the very least he should be told where they were heading, and for the first time Arthur told his uncle a barefaced lie. He told him that he had no idea where Gwen could have gone and that the mission was only to look for clues to what might have happened to her. It felt strange to lie to the man Arthur trusted to rule his kingdom in his absence, but Elyan had made him promise that the information about Gwen's intended destination not be shared with anyone other than their travelling party. Arthur had wanted to prove to Elyan that his concern for Gwen and her safety outweighed his loyalty to his uncle, even though he considered Elyan's suspicions about a trusted member of his family to be baseless. So he told a falsehood to his worried uncle, who had grabbed hold of his horse's reins and seemed unwilling to let go, as if he wanted to stop Arthur from leaving him behind. In the end he had to reach down and, as gently as possible, loosen the man's grip on the reins. It was either that or find out how long Agravaine could hold on when dragged behind a horse ridden at full speed.

They reached Wenham in the late afternoon of the second day and Arthur claimed the fresh horses and supplies that were his due from the lord of Wenham. His lordship had disturbing news of a massacre of travellers just over half a day's ride from his town which made Arthur decline the invitation to spend the night at Wenham Castle. Grimfaced with worry, he had led his men out of the castle gates, while Lord Wenham stood helplessly in the courtyard, unsure if he should take King Arthur's refusal of hospitality as a slur on his good name.

They rode on through the night, using flaming torches to light their way and arrived at the campsite where the atrocity had taken place as dawn was breaking. Lord Wenham's men were settling down to a breakfast of pork and bread prior to breaking camp when they arrived. When questioned, they informed Arthur that all the bodies of the poor unfortunates, who had been so mercilessly slaughtered, had already been deposed of on communal byres. While the fruitless search for any bandits that might still be in the area had finally ended late the previous day.

While the men of Wenham answered Arthur's many questions, Merlin dismounted his horse and quietly slipped away to walk alone through the desolate campsite. Although the bodies had been cleared away, he was able, through his magical connection to the world around him, to sense fear and the darkness of the terrible death toll hanging heavily over the many discarded personal belongings strewn on the ground. Merlin stooped to pick up a small dark mahogany carving of a knight on horseback, which had obviously been a child's favoured toy. He turned it in his hands concentrating on the beautifully carved horse, his fingers gently stroking the delicate tendrils of a mane worn smooth by constant handling over the years.

By accident, Merlin had discovered a talent for seeing into the recent past when, as a boy in Ealdor, he had chanced upon a burnt out cottage near the village in which two lives had been lost. Without thinking, he had picked up a partly burnt fragment of timber that had fallen from the roof and been surprised when immediately, what he called his secret eye opened, and he had been transported back in time to find himself standing in front of the burning building as the flames devoured it. The occupants, an elderly couple who had cultivated a scrap of land beside the house, were screaming as they tried in vain to escape the inferno. Merlin had learned that this ability to see what had happened only worked if the events from the past were fairly recent and had involved violence of some sort. It was as though the pain of those who died had left an imprint of suffering on their belongings and the place where they had breathed their last, which Merlin could tap into through his magic.

When he felt the sensation of falling forward, Merlin knew his connection to the past had worked, and was being channelled through the toy. Everything was confused, as at first he could only hear shouts and sounds of fighting through the darkness and then his eye opened fully to give him the first vision of that night in all its horror. A woman was crying out as her young son was dragged away screaming by a thug, who must have been mad with blood lust to threaten death to one so innocent. The scene played out close to where Merlin was standing, but there was nothing he could do to help a child he knew was already dead and gone. The boy dropped his wooden toy in fright and then sobbing pitifully for it, pleading to be released with his little arms stretching out towards the horse.

Merlin knew then that he had to let go of the boy's torment to have a chance of finding out if Gwen had been there during the attack, so he forced himself to turn his back on the heartrending scene. Carrying his wooden guide with him, he threaded his way through visions of carnage that were playing out all around him. Merlin saw that the travelling folk, although entertainers by trade, were fighting back against their assailants. Swords and axes were being used with skill and desperation in equal measure as they tried to protect their families and friends against a merciless foe.

Merlin then came upon a large bandit, who was standing with his back to him and was not taking part in the slaughter. That piqued the young sorcerer's interest and he started walking towards the ghostly image. Only to be brought to a halt, as without warning, the man flew almost gracefully backwards through the air. When he hit the ground Merlin could see that a long throwing spear had pierced his torso, killing him outright. A movement beyond the dead bandit captured Merlin's attention and then he saw Gwen walking towards a knight. The stranger's face was hidden from him, and all Merlin could make out was that he was tall and that he appeared to be guiding Gwen away to safety. They crouched down close to the ground as they went by the body of another much smaller bandit and then disappeared into the forest.

Exhausted and aware that the power of his connection to the past was fading fast, Merlin laid the toy down with careful reverence between the twisted roots of a tree and as soon as it was released from his touch, the cold ghostly darkness of that night was replaced by the vivid colours of daylight. The change was so abrupt Merlin felt faint and had to lean against the tree trunk as he breathed in deeply to clear his head.

"Is this place is getting to you too, there's a strangeness about it, very creepy."

The knight shivered as if cold, while he made that last comment.

Ignoring Gwaine for a moment longer, Merlin lifted his head to vainly search the forest stretching out in front of him. He now knew Gwen had gone into the darkness, trusting her life to a stranger. Under his breath, Merlin said a prayer to the three mother goddesses, beloved by the druids and his mother, in the hope they had kept Gwen safe.

"I was told to come and get you; one of the travellers survived and he was taken to a farmhouse further down the road. Arthur wants you to treat his wounds."

"Why, I'm no Gaius, there must be an experienced healer back at Wenham!"

"There isn't time, he's in a really bad way and Arthur needs to question him. Come on Merlin, you seriously don't want to keep your king waiting, not with the mood he's in!"

Merlin tore himself reluctantly away from the secrets held by the forest and allowed Gwaine to put an arm round his shoulder and guide him to his king.

* * *

When Merlin arrived at a threshing barn attached to the back of the large farm house, Leon and Perceval were standing outside while he could see Elyan pacing anxiously back and forward across the width of the large building.

Arthur was standing beside a trestle table on which lay Merlin's patient. Merlin was shocked to find that he was to treat someone who was little more than a boy and a small one at that. He noted with interest that his patient's clothing; a leather long sleeved jerkin and trousers, were the same as those worn by bandits in his vision rather than the travelling entertainers, who had had a preference for brightly coloured clothes.

Merlin got to work right away by examining the boy's chest wound, which had been very roughly bandaged. He was glad Gaius was not there to see such shoddy work, which when the linen was lifted away revealed a deep nasty wound with the right side of the ribcage smashed through, exposing a row of long thin broken bones. The smell of the putrefied infection made Merlin gag, but he could not understand the heartlessness of the farmer, who had condemned this youngster to a slow death in an outhouse. His patient clung to life as his body burned with a high fever and the only indications of a life force were the shallow breaths drawn in and then exhaled from his one good lung.

"My lord, this boy is beyond even Gaius' healing powers. It is a wonder he has lived this long."

"But while he still lives, he is the only witness we've got. I need to question him Merlin, so do your best!"

It seemed cruel to torture the dying boy in this way, and Merlin could see that Arthur realised that as well. It was fear for his Gwen that forced him to give this order. Merlin had to think hard to work out what herbs and potions Gaius would have used to wake someone from such a deep unconsciousness.

"I will need some potions of comfrey, rue and sorrel; if we're lucky the farmer's wife should have a stock of those ready for use. I'm also going to need clean linen to bandage the wound."

Sir Leon, who had come to stand in the doorway of the building when Merlin arrived, went off at once, without needing to wait for an order, in search of Merlin's requirements. While he waited, Merlin cut away all the soiled bandages to fully reveal the brutal wound.

Arthur leant over to inspect the boy's chest with the practiced eye of one experienced in the results of the battleground.

"Looks like an axe wound, and one thrown with considerable force." He commented, moving further round to get a different view of the wound.

"I'm sure he'd be really glad if he knew you were taking such a morbid interest in the manner of his end…sire."

Used to Merlin expressing himself without a care for the status of the listener, Arthur deigned to explain his interest further:

"A warrior should know what kind of injuries his weapons can inflict. Then, depending on the situation, he can select the best tool to bring down his opponent."

"That would be another reason I'm glad I'm not a warrior, my lord."

Arthur was about to say that he was also glad since Merlin would never have a hope of being a decent fighter, when Leon returned clutching two vials and a length of linen.

"They only have the comfrey and sorrel potions and request that you spare the comfrey on the boy since he is beyond saving."

Merlin took the glass containers from Leon, shaking his head at the meanness that left this boy to face his end without any medicinal comfort.

"The sorrel is to break the fever, but comfrey is a painkiller and I'm not about to deny him that relief."

Arthur looked disgusted as he gave Merlin the order to override such blatant cruelty, "Use what you need, Merlin. The farmer and his wife will answer to their king if they dare raise any objections."

As carefully as he could Merlin went about his work; first re-bandaging the wound with the clean rags provided for the purpose. Gaius would have coated the inner side with a mixture of rue to draw out the infection, but Merlin knew that would be pointless as the strong smell of decay indicated poison had taken hold of his patient's body. Arthur then helped Merlin administer first the sorrel potion and then the whole vial of comfrey.

They had then to wait for the fever to lessen sufficiently for the boy to regain consciousness and open his eyes, blinking painfully against the bright sunlight streaming into the barn entrance.

Merlin noticed Elyan quietly approaching the table to stand behind Arthur. He looked nervous, as if he was unsure of his welcome, while desperation for any word of Gwen's whereabouts drove him to take the chance of angering Arthur by intruding on the interview.

"What place is this, where am I?" The boy whispered through painfully laboured breaths.

"You were injured in a fight, and brought to a nearby farm. Can you remember what happened?"

The boy's eyes opened even wider and he focused on Merlin's face as he asked, "Who are you?

"I'm Merlin, manservant to King Arthur Pendragon, but I've also studied under the renowned healer, Gaius of Camelot."

"Then I'm in safe hands. My friends call me Iwan the Mouse, not that I'm cowardly mind, but because I'm renowned for my ability to find a way out of the tightest spot!"

Iwan managed a half hearted smile and then fell silent, closing his eyes as he succumbed to the exhaustion speaking clearly caused him.

"Iwan," Merlin said, lightly shaking the boy's shoulder to get his attention, "King Arthur has some questions to put to you, afterwards I promise that you can rest."

"King Arthur?" Iwan whispered, his tone indicating surprise to be in the presence of one so exulted. It was either that or his mind was already addled by the strong dose of comfrey.

Elyan could not help but edge even closer, moving round to stand at the head of the table. Arthur and Merlin were far to busy concentrating on Iwan to pay him any attention, as hardly able to breathe, Elyan feared that the news he was about to hear would not be good.

Arthur leant closer to the boy and asked his first question, his voice full of concern, "By any chance did a beautiful young woman called Guinevere travel with the troupe during your journey."

Iwan was silent for a moment and then seemed to be talking to himself as he muttered, "Guinevere, more beautiful than the highest born lady; a tawny goddess, yet destined to a life of servitude as a lowly maid."

"So you _do _know of her," the king said, his worry making him shout in impatience.

"He may be too far gone to make any sense, sire."

The boy's eyes opened wide again and he directed an angry glare at Merlin.

"I'll have you know I am also famous for my ability to remember people and things, _apprentice_ healer. It is not a boast when I say I own the sharpest mind in the five kingdoms."

Arthur lost patience at the time being wasted on Iwan's high opinion of his abilities and couldn't help retorting, "That's quite a claim for someone in your current position!"

"Ah but your _royalness_, my wits are no use in brutish battles. I wager I could talk myself out of any situation apart from this one, what could I do about an axe aimed straight at my heart?"

Merlin decided he needed to step in to bring what was left of Iwan's famous wits back to the matter at hand, "Given that you know Guinevere; can you tell us if she was with the travellers when the bandits attacked?"

"That she was, the poor sweet cherub. Unfortunately for her, she was the prey the murderous bandits were hunting."

"Did you by any chance see what happened to her?" Merlin continued, as Arthur was rendered speechless by the horror of the boy's words.

"As you would expect from men fearsome enough to finish me off so easily, they captured the little bird and carried her off. She struggled and cried out, but it was all in vain, because there was no one left standing to come to her aid."

Merlin noticed the sly look Iwan gave Arthur, who was gripping the edge of the table, trying to control his emotions as he heard the boy's account of Gwen's capture. Elyan shuddered and turned away, stifling a sob. Merlin stared down at Iwan, knowing that the boy had just lied even though he could see little point to the falsehood. Unless, of course, his loyalty to his fellow bandits meant he was prepared to do anything to help them, even though they had abandoned him. The boy's next words confirmed his duplicitous intent:

"There were two of them; great hulking brutes they were. I swear on what's left of my life that I heard them discuss their intention to take her back north to their hideout near Camelot. Some highborn lady was prepared to pay very well for proof of her death."

"Morgana, it has to be Morgana! But why would she want Gwen dead, unless to hurt me!" Arthur cried out, the despair at his half-sister's continuing campaign against him etched on his face when he met Merlin's worried gaze.

Merlin wanted to shout out that Iwan was a liar, but he gritted his teeth as the boy's eyes turned back to look up at him. If only, he could speak up and say that he knew for sure the boy was lying to Arthur. But then he would have to explain how he knew that was the case, that he had magic and had used it to see what had really happened to Gwen. Given Arthur's hatred of those who used sorcery, his life would no doubt be forfeit before he managed to get beyond the fateful words that like Morgana, he too had been born with the gift of magic.

The look in Iwan's eyes seemed to be goading Merlin to say something, as if he sensed Merlin did not believe a word of his story.

Arthur missed their wordless exchange; his face was a picture of fear and worry as he gently touched the boy's scrawny shoulder and said, "Thank you for your help, you can rest now."

"Hark that, I have been given leave to rest by the great king."

With that Iwan managed a satisfied smile before breathing his last and his body relaxed into the finality of death.

"We must return to Camelot right away, otherwise the bravery of this poor boy will have been in vain."

Arthur started to go to his knights, who were waiting patiently outside for the outcome of the interview.

"Wait, my lord!"

"Your habit of questioning every decision I make is becoming tedious Merlin. You forget who you are addressing."

"I don't question _every_ decision sire, only those that I think might be wrong!" Merlin said, smiling as endearingly as possible, in a pointless attempt to head off the usual reaction to his well meaning, but foolhardy need to counsel his sovereign.

"Merlin!"

Arthur was, as could have been predicted, furious with his maddening servant. He stood, hands on hips, glaring at his personal idiot, who seemed intent on delaying any chance of rescuing his beloved Guinevere.

Merlin met the royal stare without backing down, his glare making it clear he had no intention of budging without speaking his mind. Rather surprisingly to anyone not familiar with the complicated nature of their relationship, Arthur was the first to back down. While most times Merlin was more suited to the role of court jester than counsellor, Arthur found that his next words had a sickening inevitability about them.

"Well out with it, what exactly is wrong with my plan to return to Camelot?"

"Sire, the boy could easily have been mistaken. In the heat of battle and fatally injured, he might have misread the situation. We have just travelled the fastest route from Camelot, if Gwen was being taken back along that very road why did we not run into her captors? It is also just as possible that Gwen escaped their clutches and felt it was safer to continue her journey south."

"So in other words, you are asking me to trust another one of your gut feelings instead of an eyewitness account of what actually happened to her?"

"No, but by your leave, sire, I would like to continue the journey south to Deawlisc."

As he listened, it irked Elyan to admit that Merlin's reasoning made sense to him. They had encountered no one on their journey south apart from farmers and other market traders going at first towards Camelot and then later travelling to Wenham to sell their wares. He also saw a chance to find Gwen without involving Arthur at all. The fact Merlin was intent on continuing the journey was of little consequence, as Elyan was sure he could shake him off.

"I have also decided to travel south, my lord," Elyan said, conscious that he was not asking Arthur for permission to take this action.

Arthur regarded Elyan for a moment, giving him with a brief nod to indicate he accepted his decision, before turning his attention on someone who really did not comprehend what his lowly status in the world meant:

"After all this time you still don't understand which one of us is entitled to give the orders!"

"Sire, is it not possible you have underestimated how strong and resourceful Gwen actually is?"

With the image firmly etched in his mind, of Gwen struggling in the arms of a bandit as the brute carried her away, Arthur could not answer Merlin. Instead he turned away to look out of the large open doorway of the barn, as if the answer to what had happened to Guinevere could be found there. The sun was streaming in through the entrance illuminating the myriad specks of dust that danced like so many grains of gold in the air. It felt as though he was being pulled in too many different directions. Duty had made him turn away from Guinevere, yet love was the spur pushing him to find her. And there was always the very real fear that he would disgrace the memory of his father by destroying the kingdom Uther had built. That gnawing concern coloured all his decisions. Yet, he also wanted desperately to make his own mark; to govern without needing to think what his father would have done in a similar situation.

Uther had often warned him that the lot of a king was hard with one difficult decision after another to make. So Arthur had strived always to do the right thing; he listened to all of the differing views offered up; from his uncle, his council, and even sometimes taking on board some ideas from his idiot servant. Yet when he thought about it, only Merlin and Guinevere had ever urged him to trust his own feelings. So, which way should he jump, what was the right decision? Should he continue the journey south to the place he knew Guinevere had intended to go or retrace his route not knowing where to search for her or even if she was still alive?


	8. Chapter 8

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin; I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

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**Chapter Eight**

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If it hadn't been for a slight breeze rustling through the leaves and branches above her, Gwen could have sworn she was cuddled up in her bed at home in Camelot. She was cocooned in what seemed to be the softest and warmest blanket in all the five kingdoms. She yearned to stay like this forever because she was incredibly comfortable and it felt good to be at peace with life. Yet her mind appeared to be arguing with her body's wish to remain in a dream world; one that felt so safe. It was as though she wanted to hold onto the sensation that reminded her of when she had been a child and a simple cuddle from her mother could make any pain go away.

Gwen reluctantly opened her eyes, lazily following the gentle dance of the greenery above her, as the leaves and branches swayed in the wind. The motion had almost lulled her back to sleep in her soft warm nest when she heard someone cough politely, as if wanting to attract her attention. Gwen turned her head in the direction of the sound and spied her self-appointed protector, Galahad, watching her from the far side of the camp fire. A pot hung over the fire and the delicious smell of cooking food made her stomach protest in hunger. Gwen felt torn between the promise of breakfast and the luxury of staying wrapped in the blanket that swaddled her as though she was a helpless babe.

The idea of simply doing nothing at all had never before crossed Gwen's mind before. For as long as Gwen could remember she had had responsibilities and jobs to do that kept her busy from dawn to dusk. Sleep was for the dark night when exhausted she would fall into bed, only to wake at dawn the next morning with more of the same chores to look forward to. That was the lot of a servant; your day was a procession of drudgery.

In the past year life had became a lot easier when Gwen's sole responsibility had been to nurse King Uther. Then her body had not ached from physical exertion, instead exhaustion had come from the tension of dealing with a difficult man, who could either lash out in frustration or cry in sorrow at the blink of an eye. There had been many times when Gwen wanted to run as far away as she could from the thankless task she had taken on for the love of Arthur. Then there had been those strange moments when the old man had spoken a kind word or two or been as gentle as a lamb and then she had not known what to think. This from a man who had sentenced her father to death without a qualm, and had twice ordered that she be executed as a witch. Of course, a king like Uther had never thought to apologise for being wrong, so Gwen knew she was lucky to still be alive.

The thoughts of her time with Uther had at least managed to fully rouse Gwen and she realised that there was no chance of a return to quiet slumber. She gave out a disgruntled sigh and raised her head to regard her surroundings properly. She looked past Galahad, who still sat by the fire taking care of breakfast and saw their two horses were also in the small clearing quietly grazing. The perfectly normal scene disconcerted Gwen because she knew she was missing something; she had not the slightest idea where they were or how they came to be there. The only memories she had were tantalizingly jumbled fragments of the last moments before sleep had claimed her, which bizarrely featured an almost lifelike mist which had behaved in a most threatening way.

"Good morning my lady, I can well understand why you look so puzzled."

"What happened, I feel as though I've been asleep for at least a year!"

"Oh not as long as that my lady, three days at most."

"Three days….how could I have slept for so long…unless…I was enchanted?"

Gwen suddenly felt terribly scared and confused as she tried to make sense of how long she had been asleep; she was even unsure if she could trust what her eyes were seeing now. She wondered if Galahad and the horses were really there or if she was still under the influence of a powerful spell.

"Please do not be troubled my lady, there is no malevolence at work here. Great care was taken to look after and hide you from the person who wishes you dead. Although I admit I have a strange tale to tell of the last three days."

"Well you'd best get started then!" Gwen commanded, taking out her frustration at being in the dark about what had happened, on her hapless companion. Poor Galahad looked so startled at the sharpness of her tongue, Gwen immediately regretted her harshness:

"I'm sorry Galahad; I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"It is forgotten, I understand how difficult this must be for you. Would you like to settle yourself at the fire first; I'm sure some breakfast would help."

Gwen lifted the blanket that had kept her so warm and cosy and was surprised to find she was only wearing her light tunic and travelling trews.

"Do you know what happened to my travelling coat and boots?"

"Over here, my lady," Galahad replied, pointing to her coat, which was hanging from the end of a low tree branch close to him. Her boots were on the ground beside the coat, cleaned and polished as if new.

With a look of some distaste on his face, Galahad explained, "They insisted on washing all of our clothes, and that I bathe, so be glad you slept through that indignity! We were protected by people with a ridiculous desire for cleanliness. As far as I'm concerned, a little dirt never hurt anyone. They also have very odd views on the ways of the world; living solely on the fruits of the forest and pulses and such like, no meat at all. A diet free of good meat weakens a fighting man very quickly..."

Galahad hesitated for a moment and there was obviously something on his mind as he gave Gwen an appraising look as if he was trying to gage her mood.

"My lady…is it possible that you have not been completely honest…about …who you are?"

Gwen was surprised by his question rather than offended by the suggestion that she had lied to him. She could not help but be very intrigued at the reason for his query, "Why do you ask, Galahad?"

"Do you remember when we were being chased through the forest and a druid appeared out of the mist in front of us?"

Immediately the image of the stranger with his arms raised high above his head, as if summoning the spirits of the forest, sprang into Gwen's still befuddled mind. She gasped out loud in shock at the sudden clarity of the vision that until recently had been hidden from her.

"The druid meant us no harm, he was trying to help!"

"Yes, for some reason he and the rest of his group protected us from the men who wanted to kill you."

"Why would a druid want to help me?"

"That's a good question, my lady. I tried to ask, after making sure they did not think I was ungrateful for their help, but they either avoided the question with nonsense answers or pretended not to hear me. I don't know why I'm surprised; all the druids I've ever met delighted in speaking in confusing riddles. I suspect they think it makes them sound more important…"

"And exactly how many druids do you know?" Gwen asked, aware of a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was about to learn an uncomfortable truth about a person she barely knew.

"Not many at all, my lady, I can assure you that I do not make a habit of consorting with people of magic. Lord Cador employed one or two, who practiced the dark arts. He found their talents useful when he preferred magic to the noble approach to winning a dispute. He is an unscrupulous man with little regard for honour. I, however, being well aware of the laws of Camelot with regard to sorcery, admit I was worried how you would take the news that druids undoubtedly saved our lives."

"To be honest, I don't know what to think. I've had very little contact with the druids, why would they risk their lives for me?"

"My lady, may I ask you another question?"

"Yes of course, go ahead Galahad."

"Do you think King Arthur would think less of me if he knew I once let a druid use magic on an injury to my arm? I had a badly broken arm, caused by a fall from a horse during tourney practice. I was in a lot of pain and I admit that weakened my resolve to stay clear of those who use magic."

Galahad stroked his forearm as if he could still feel how sore the injury had been as he looked plaintively at Gwen. Honestly she doubted the youth would ever get to the stage of confessing his previous sins to Arthur, he was much more likely to be laughed out of Camelot for offering his services as a knight. However by nature Gwen was a kind woman, so she tried to ease his mind by gently suggesting it would be a good idea to keep the matter secret if he wanted a future at King Arthur's court.

"But how can a knight withhold information from his liege lord and still be true to the knight's code?"

It amazed Gwen how quickly Galahad managed to exasperate her with his fanciful notions. He was so naïve in his devotion to the knight's code he ignored the reality that men, who lived by the sword, had a precarious hold on life. Worrying about minor misdemeanours that harmed no one else would not make him a better knight.

"What if we agree that you keep the matter secret, but devote the rest of your life to good works and in that way atone for your one mistake? And you could start by telling me what happened while we were with the druids?"

"Of course my lady, the pottage is almost ready, if you would like some while I tell my story?"

Gwen first retrieved her travelling coat, the material of which was warm to the touch after hanging out in the early morning sun and put on her now beautifully clean boots. Then she gave Serenity some attention before settling down at the fire. Galahad handed her a bowl of piping hot bean and barley pottage along with the heel of a rye bread. Then she helped herself to a spoon from the open leather pouch containing their supply of utensils. Warming her hands around the wooden bowl Gwen waited until Galahad had served himself a portion before eagerly tucking into the food.

Galahad started by explaining that the druid had allowed him to remain awake so that he could witness that no harm came to her while she was under the enchantment. He had helped the druid, who identified himself as Bodhmall the Pure, to secure Gwen's comatose body onto her horse. Bodhmall had then led them through the line of men searching for them and it had been as though the mist made them invisible. Although Galahad said that he had still been able to hear the bandits as they called out to each other to locate comrades hidden by the thick clouds of vapour. Once a man had passed so close to Galahad, all he needed to do was reach out an arm and he could have touched his shoulder. He shuddered as he recalled that memory and Gwen agreed that it must have been a very strange experience.

Then they had arrived in a small clearing where a group of druids; men, women and children, were waiting for them, protected by a high circular wall of the same thick mist. They had waited there in eerie silence until darkness fell and the clouds of mist dissipated. Galahad remarked on how quiet it had been, saying that not even birdsong penetrated the magical cocoon that had woven an impassable barrier between the trees. That night they had made camp where they stood and Galahad had been well fed although he complained of his hurt when they, in his opinion, rudely refused his offer to hunt for some game to add to the vegetable stew.

From the next morning Galahad was made to wear a blindfold and was guided through the forest. He was only allowed to take off the blindfold at night after they had set up camp. As a result Galahad had no idea where the druids had taken them; only that it had been a three day walk after the first encounter with Bodhmall the Pure to reach where they were now. When he had protested about the blindfold, it was explained that the witch hunting Gwen, was likely to know he was travelling with her, and they did not want to take the chance her magic was powerful enough to use him to track their progress. By rendering Gwen unconscious, the druids said that they had stopped the witch from using magic to find her; they had told him that it would seem as though Gwen had disappeared from the world of the living.

This morning, Galahad said he had been woken just before dawn and reunited with his own now very clean clothes. The druids had provided breakfast and then while he sat warming himself at the fire they slipped away; merging so silently with the colours of nature, it was as if they had melted into the trees of the green forest. He admitted somewhat shamefacedly that their disappearance had been so dreamlike, the thought of asking where they were had only occurred to him when it was too late to ask.

"Bodhmall mentioned this witch several times my lady, it seems she is the one who wants you dead. Do you know who she might be?"

"Yes, Galahad, unfortunately I do."

Then Gwen sighed, because the final conformation that the woman she had once considered a friend was now a deadly enemy, hurt to her core.

"The witch the druids fear is Lady Morgana Pendragon, King Uther's daughter. She seeks Camelot's throne, as Uther's eldest child, she considers the crown to be hers by right."

"I remember hearing that she had made one attempt to seize the throne." Galahad said, before adding, "So there can be no love lost between King Arthur and his sister, particularly as the lady has magic. What I don't understand is what she would gain from killing you?"

"Believe me, I wish I knew why Morgana hates me so much and considers me a threat. There was a time when I felt we were close. Although I was only her maidservant, I thought she was a good and loyal friend."

"Well all Bodhmall told me was that it is vital you are kept out the witch's clutches as it is the only way to safeguard the promise of Albion. Does that mean anything to you, my lady?"

Gwen stared at Galahad in complete surprise. She had never heard of Albion, never mind what possible connection she could have to whatever it was. Perhaps if she had still been with Arthur it would have made sense for Morgana to target her, but the druids had not mentioned her connection to the king to Galahad.

"Are you sure those were his exact words, because I _am_ only a servant. My destiny is to live a life of servitude, nothing more."

"Those were his very words my lady, but trying to get sense from a druid is not an easy matter at the best of times. All I can say, for sure, is that they risked their lives to protect us from the witch, even though it was obvious they feared her power."

"Why would the druids fear her when they also know how to command powerful magic?"

"Bodhmall said that the witch uses her magic without concern for the balance of life, or something like that. He did explain to me that he would never use his powers to hurt a living soul, even if it was a matter of life or death. I think what he was getting at was that magic should only be used for the good of all, while Lady Morgana wields sorcery for her own gain."

Galahad's explanation made sense to Gwen, helping her to understand the change in Morgana from the loyal and kind hearted friend she had first known, to the power hungry woman who would stop at nothing to secure Camelot's throne. Could it be that by misusing her magical gift, Morgana's mind had become so warped she had lost sight of her humanity? In the silence as they both digested Galahad's words, Gwen became aware of a distant noise that she swore sounded just like the rhythmic beating of drums.

"Galahad did you by any chance mention where we were heading?"

At that, the likely knight looked decidedly sheepish as he answered, "I may have done so, did I do wrong?"

"No, it's just I think that's where they've brought us, or at least as close as they could go safely. Look over there, just behind you, the forest is thinning out and I have a really strange, but strong feeling that the coast and Deawlisc lies beyond those hills."

As she said those words, Gwen knew it was true and she felt her heart soar with excitement tinged with a dizzy fear. It was as though the druid's enchantment had left her with a connection to their mysteries; the residue of that powerful magic had linked her to the four elements; earth, water, air and fire, that had birthed the world. Gwen knew then that she was far from home, but near to a place her father had held dear although he had never travelled to see it himself. It was the place where the land met a mystical sea; where the air that a person breathed tasted of brine and the promise of adventure.

This narrow southern sea had been so special to her father and he had told Gwen about it from when she was a small child. He had woven images, which were larger than life, of the time when one of their ancestors had crossed this water at the head of a fearsome Roman army to rule a kingdom that was far greater than all the five kingdoms put together. He had been a legendary leader and warrior who had brought peace and prosperity to this kingdom, which Tom had told her, was called Britannia. The Romans had by then long since defeated all those who had tried to stand against them and imposed their way of life on the people left behind on the island. They had built fantastic buildings with hot and cold running water and a method of heating rooms underneath floors decorated with brightly coloured pictures of gods and goddess and fabulous animals. Her ancestor had then come to Britannia, which for a time had been forgotten by those conquerors, to rebuild and reintroduce the laws and ways of the Romans; making his capital at a place they called Eboracum.

Once Tom had taken Gwen to see a ruin that had once been a fine villa and they had taken away two or three red clay roof tiles and a few brightly coloured fragments of what was left of a beautiful floor mosaic. From that day on, Gwen would imagine her ancestor walking on the floor she had seen, wrapped in a draped cloth and the strange leather sandals that were the Roman style. Only in her mind he looked just like her father with a wreath of golden laurel leaves circling his head. Gwen found it strange that the only lasting legacy of those powerful people were the straight paved roads that carved their way through the countryside and the ruined buildings with their broken murals and floors. Gwen had no idea what had become of the mighty Romans; all she knew was that some of them had put down roots and unlike their almost magical power, never left.

"I would like to go to the sea now," Gwen whispered, awed at what she was about to do.

Galahad thought of himself as a veteran, having already travelled a great distance to the wide expanse of water far to the west that separated this land from a race of fierce warriors. However, he found Gwen's open eyed enthusiasm infectious as he quickly damped down the fire and helped pack away their belongings.

As they left the forest behind Gwen suddenly felt very exposed without the protective shelter the trees offered. The feeling that she was being watched was so strong the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She instinctively turned round in the saddle and then up at the blue sky above her, but there was no one in sight. Then Gwen realised what was troubling her; the druids had kept her safe and protected in the forest, where their magic was most powerful. Now that she was on her own and out in the open, Gwen knew that Morgana would be able to use magic to see her again. The thought that she was watching them at that moment while they moved towards the coast and Deawlisc was so terrifying Gwen shivered with fear. She did not know the true extent of Morgana's powers and she wondered if her former friend could also command the elements; and summon a bolt of lighting to strike her down whenever she so wished.

Then Gwen's commonsense kicked in and she gave herself a telling off for letting her imagination run wild. If Morgana was that powerful, why did she need men of flesh and blood to hunt her down? It could very well be that the witch had been watching Gwen's every move since she awoke that morning, but it would still take time for Morgana to send a messenger to the bandits before the hunt could begin again.

There was also the comforting thought that, if Gwen was right, and the town of Deawlisc was nearby, there would be plenty time for them to reach the safety of a thriving town full of people. It would be extremely difficult for bandits to come into such a place, because Gwen was sure that soldiers loyal to the Kingdom of Dewnens would be barracked there. So a group of heavily armed bandits coming into such a place was bound to attract the wrong sort of attention from the locals.

Gwen looked skywards once more, but this time she imagined that Morgana _was_ watching her, and Gwen wanted her to see that she was still very much alive. As seagulls rode the air above her, Gwen shouted out a challenge to her former friend, "Watch me all you like, Morgana, because I am out of reach of your vengeance!"

That simple act of defiance made Gwen feel so much better she ignored Galahad's questioning look, giving him a shrug of her shoulders and a reassuring smile to say that all was right with her world. Holding herself proudly erect in the saddle, she rode on with a renewed confidence, having banished the spectre of the witch from her mind.

Not long afterwards Gwen got her first glimpse, between two hillocks, of the distant blue line that marked the horizon that lay between the sea and the sky. She reined in Serenity to bring her horse to a halt for a moment. This was an important moment for Gwen, and she wished with all her heart her father could have been there to see with his own eyes the expanse of water their legendary ancestor had crossed. Gwen could already make out that the sounds she had first identified as drums, were actually waves pounding relentlessly against hard rock, and it filled her with wonder that anyone would be brave enough to try and cross something that wielded such an incredible force.

"This way," Galahad called out having ridden on someway ahead.

The ground beneath their horses' hooves was covered in long wiry grass that was being pulled in all directions by gusts of wind blown up from the cliffs that were the barrier holding back the sea. The wind tangled Gwen's long dark curls, alternately blowing hair onto her face and then lifting it away again. She could hardly breathe as the horse climbed the final slope to the headland where Galahad waited for her, man and horse silhouetted against the sky.

When Gwen reached his position, she could finally gaze on the great expanse of the constantly churning water that together with the sky filled the view in front of her for as far as she could see. Gwen was stunned by the sight that greeted her; becoming suddenly aware of how small she was in relation to this great panorama. There were sheer cliffs marking the end of the land not far from Serenity's hooves and the water booming against this wall of stone made the solid ground below them shake. Scared by the raw power of the sea, Gwen slipped from her horse and crouched down among the wiry grass and strange little pink flowers that clung to the headland, their heads nodding in the strong wind.

While Galahad watched with a disapproving look on his face, Gwen moved cautiously on her hands and knees towards the edge of the cliff top until she could peer down at the place where the waves clashed with the land. Lying flat out on the ground Gwen felt the wind that rushed up over the rock face try to lift her up and she grabbed two handfuls of grass and anchored her feet by digging the toes of her boots into the earth. Galahad shouted out words of caution, but the wind whipped them away and all Gwen caught was the note of concern in his voice. The noise was immense as each great mass of water crashed against the base of the ruddy brown cliffs underneath her body and then retreated dragging thousands of tiny round red pebbles with it. Only to throw the pebbles back at the rocks in the foaming waves which returned to pound and batter away at solid stone.

Gwen lifted her face to watch sea birds circling, and then diving like living arrows through the air as they hunted expertly in their watery world. Too cold and buffeted to remain any longer at her precarious perch, Gwen carefully moved back from the edge, shaken by what she had seen. To think that her friend, Blythe, had made her home in this place, where there could never be any escape from the sheer power of the sea.

When she looked over at Galahad he turned to point further along the coast to where a large castle stood on a high spur that stretched out like a giant finger into the water. In the shelter of a cove Gwen saw many small dwellings clustered on a long strip of flat land that lay between the high ground and the sea.

"Deawlisc, my lady?"

Gwen could only presume that it was the right place, nothing that her imagination and Blythe's occasional letters could have conjured up, did justice to the reality she was faced with.

"Why don't we go and find out," she said, sounding more confident than she felt at that moment, as she re-mounted her ever patient horse, Serenity.

As they rode in silence, Gwen mused on what the druids had told Galahad. She had no idea what Albion was or why she was important to safeguarding its future. All she could take from what she had been told was that if any harm came to her, its very existence was endangered. Then she wondered if there was any connection to the ancestor who her father had said once ruled a large portion of this island. She could claim to be a direct descendant from a man who had worn a golden crown of laurel leaves: a king. So did that make her a princess, did it mean that she and her brother Elyan had royal blood in their veins? Could it be that she was actually _appropriate _after all?

Abruptly, Gwen reined in Serenity, as a profound feeling of sadness hit her hard when she remembered her final conversation with Arthur. Galahad had continued on a little way before stopping his horse to check why she was no longer with him. As he looked back he had concern written all over his face, but Gwen simply indicated with a wave of her hand that he was to continue on and not to wait for her. Then she realised that she had just treated him as if she was a real lady and he her lowly servant. Giggling to herself and feeling more than a little hysterical, Gwen wondered why she was letting the druid's words lead her on such flights of fantasy. Her ancestor had died a very long time ago and his land had been divided up into smaller domains, so no kingdom existed for Princess Guinevere except for the mythical one her father had conjured up for her when she was a child.

Their horses continued to trot along the well used coastal path until the fishermen's cottages became more substantial with smoke from their fires swirling up through the air.

Then Gwen looked beyond the settlement towards the castle, her attention caught by a flurry of movement on the narrow causeway leading from the fortification. She saw a small group on horseback emerge at speed from the outer gate, riding at a hard gallop along the narrow natural bridge between the castle and the land.

In that instant, Gwen felt her heart give an almighty shudder, beating so fast it took her breath away, as transfixed she stared at the distant group of riders.

No, Gwen thought, her eyes had not deceived her; there could be no doubt as to the identity of the lead rider.


	9. Chapter 9

**A fooled King, a spurned Maid and a likely Knight**

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**Disclaimer: Shine owns Merlin; I own nothing but my imagination**

**Beta: Many thanks to StevieG for all of his helpful suggestions and corrections to this story.**

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**Chapter Nine**

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Arthur was standing alone on the high walkway at the top of the castle looking down at the sea far below, the churning dark water matching his mood of despair. He had taken refuge there to escape his almost impossibly cheerful host, King Wilfred of Dewnens. The man was around the same age as Arthur's father, but that was the only similarity between them; Wilfred had known only peace and prosperity in his long reign as king. His contented life was reflected in a rotund figure and happy go lucky attitude. He was a larger than life character who meant well, and Arthur was definitely not in the right state of mind for more of his exuberance on that particular morning.

When he had personally come to the courtyard to greet Arthur's party the night before last, he had been brimming with bonhomie, and under the impression their visit was connected to the kingdom's forthcoming Festival of the Sea. It was only after a boisterous evening meal, during which Wilfred got happily merry on wine and fondled every serving maid, who had the misfortune to get within touching distance, that Arthur had been able to speak to him in private and explain his mission.

Wilfred had not been shocked by Arthur's admission of his love for Guinevere, a commoner, but he had not taken the matter as seriously as Arthur would have liked. The idea seemed to amuse him as he kept referring to Arthur's youth and the agony of first love, while slurping yet more wine from a bejewelled goblet. Wilfred had then attempted a more serious tone as he explained such love affairs were perfectly acceptable as long as a king did his royal duty in the end. What a king required, he announced, was a good royal alliance with a neighbouring kingdom; a marriage that secured a treaty that was beneficial to all. Wilfred had used his own experience to _educate_ Arthur, slurring over his words, as he talked about his own arranged marriage and boasted that he had got three useful children out of the bargain. He had told Arthur that having done their duty, he and his queen now lived separate lives as far away from each other as possible. He finished by saying, with a knowing wink, that the arrangement left him free to have his little 'dalliances'. Arthur hid his disgust at Wilfred's explanation of a 'perfect royal marriage'. He was pleased that at least Wilfred had promised to make discreet enquiries to ascertain if Guinevere was at her friend's home.

The next morning Arthur's mood veered between excitement and fear as he paced back and forth in his guest quarters, waiting for news. When Wilfred's trusted servant finally arrived and reported that no female matching Guinevere's description had been seen at Blythe's home, it was as though Arthur's world had crashed all around him. The man continued to prattle on about the comings and goings of the town oblivious to Arthur's suffering while he waited for the reward he expected from a king.

After the man left clutching even more money than he had hoped for, Merlin had the misfortune to stick his head around the door to enquire if there was any news, and been treated to Arthur's fury instead. He took out his despair and disappointment on his servant; blaming him for the journey south, which he said with bitterness had been a fool's journey. Arthur was then left well alone to nurse his misery for the rest of the day, with Wilfred finding a kindred spirit in Sir Gwaine, while the rest of the knights applied themselves to weapons training.

Now as he stood staring at the waves as if contemplating throwing himself into the sea from his high vantage point, Arthur did not care that he must look a very sorry figure. The red Pendragon cloak flapped wildly behind him, but he ignored the strong wind that buffeted his body or any physical discomfort caused by being exposed to the elements. Nothing mattered after he realised his need to continue the journey south had all been about his wish to believe Guinevere was still alive. That hope had been all that had kept him going. Now he was forced to accept that the boy Iwan's story was true and therefore Guinevere must be dead. His eyes watering in the cold wind from the sea, Arthur gazed blindly into the distance and wondered how he would be able find a way to go on living. If only he was an ordinary man, but he was the King of Camelot with a sacred responsibility for all the people of that kingdom. So Arthur could not walk away from his duty even though he had no idea how he could continue without Guinevere by his side.

Despondent, Arthur finally tore himself away from his solitary post and walked by the corner tower, where a guard was stationed to watch for the first sighting of the Dewnens fishing fleet. Then he turned to walk along the side of the castle that looked out over Deawlisc nestled in the bay below the cliffs. He stopped for a moment, to look down at the place Guinevere had planned to visit, his heartache unbearable as he mourned her loss. When he noticed two distant figures on horseback, Arthur's gaze lingered on the riders, establishing from their relative size that they were a man and woman. Although they were unknown to him, he envied the couple, imagining they were enjoying the simple pleasure of exercising their horses along the cliff top road. Just as he was about turn away and descend to the castle courtyard, the clouds parted. The sun bejewelled the landscape with emerald greens, dark ruby reds, sapphire blues and golden yellows. Amongst all the brilliance of nature a tiny amethyst blob of colour caught Arthur's eye. The female rider was wearing a purple coat. Arthur leaned out between the stone crenulations and hardly able to believe his eyes stared into the distance at the woman.

Suddenly, his heart beating fast and hard, he pushed himself away from the wall and hared down a spiral staircase in one of the towers that led to the main courtyard of the castle, almost knocking over a hapless servant walking up the stairs in the process.

Emerging into the courtyard, Arthur ran to where Merlin was waiting with their horses, ready for the return journey to Camelot. Without a word he mounted his horse and spurred it at speed through the open entrance to the courtyard. The rest of his group were taken by surprise by his actions; however, they quickly rallied and were soon chasing after Arthur riding at a full gallop across the narrow causeway.

Hope had returned for Arthur, although the fear that his eyes had played a terrible trick on his weary mind also travelled with him as he raced towards the woman. Arthur convinced himself he was right as he remembered Guinevere's excitement when she had purchased an off-cut of the finest purple woollen cloth for a good price. There had not been enough material to make a winter cloak, but she had a different design in mind. Arthur had been proud that she was so practical, making the most of the expensive material and when she worn it, had admired how perfectly the colour suited her. Surely no one else could have designed a similar coat; it was a unique design.

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With his rich crimson Pendragon cloak fluttering behind him, Arthur was urging his horse at speed towards Gwen and she could hardly believe it was him. She halted Serenity and gestured to Galahad that she wanted them to stop where they were. All Gwen knew for certain was that she was definitely not ready to talk to Arthur. There were too many conflicting emotions; anger, hurt and love, all clamouring for her attention. For an instant the thought of running away from her former love seemed to be an attractive option, but then Gwen remembered Arthur had rejected her; she was free to do whatever and go wherever she wanted. It was then easy for Gwen to stand her ground and let him know he no longer had any right to be concerned with her.

Having come to a decision on how to deal with Arthur, Gwen looked over at her young companion and realised that it was only fair Galahad knew exactly who was riding towards them:

"The lead rider is Arthur Pendragon, Galahad. It would seem you are going to meet the King of Camelot sooner than either of us thought possible."

Surprised beyond words, Galahad fixed his gaze on the approaching rider and Gwen could tell he was going to be no help at all. It was his dream to be a great and noble knight and the pinnacle of his ambition was coming towards them at a mighty gallop. Feeling very alone, Gwen waited for the confrontation she dreaded, still taking time to notice the other riders trying to keep pace with Arthur and wonder why her brother had forsaken his hard won Pendragon cloak.

Arthur brought his horse to halt opposite Guinevere who had the cliff and sea behind her, while his knights lined up on either side of him. There was a horse length between them, but to Arthur it might as well have been a deep chasm from the anger he could read Guinevere's face. As they stared at each other the silence between them was distinctly uncomfortable. Arthur had noticed Guinevere looked well; her freckles more noticeable on her honey brown skin, no doubt because of the time she had spent out of doors. And Guinevere's rich dark brown curls hanging loosely over her shoulders, framed her beautiful, but currently stern face. That there was no hint of a welcoming smile from Guinevere, Arthur found deeply troubling and difficult to understand. Although he managed to take comfort that it appeared she had not been physically hurt by her adventure.

Serenity was anxious and Gwen had to fight to keep control of the horse. She wondered if she was transferring her conflicted feelings to the poor animal. There was the hurt and sadness she felt when he had ended their relationship. Then bitter anger when he had paid her, reducing their love to a business transaction, which in Guinevere's eyes had cheapened all they had once meant to each other. All the negative feelings had come flooding back and Gwen found she could not trust herself to take the first move and break the painful silence.

Arthur had been so incredibly happy when he knew it was Guinevere on the cliff path. He had rushed towards her without thinking how best to handle their reunion. So now that they were face to face, Arthur was at a loss as to how to respond to her icy scorn. It had the perverse effect of making him angry; as he considered how much danger she had been in, after running away from the safety of Camelot. Finally he could stand the tension no longer and, in a fury, he yelled across the breach between them, "What were you thinking, Guinevere. I didn't think you could be so stupid! Whatever possessed you to travel alone and put yourself at so much risk?"

Galahad, who had been struck dumb by an incurable case of hero worship darted glances at his charge and the king he wished to serve and tried to work out what to do for the best. He felt it was only right to take the Arthur's side in this matter, but the real puzzle was why the great King Arthur would be so concerned and angry with a servant? Before he muse any further on what was a prickly problem for the squire, who would be a knight, Gwen's brazen response only added to his confusion.

"I do not have to explain myself to you, Arthur Pendragon. I am beholden to no one and free to travel where I wish! Anyway I'm not alone; I have a very worthy protector!" Gwen yelled back, jabbing a finger forcefully in the direction of a disconcerted Galahad.

Shocked by the manner of his abrupt acknowledgement, Galahad could only nod in the direction of his hero, to confirm his position as the lady's guardian. Arthur did not pay him any attention, but the knights of Camelot all looked at him in a way that openly conveyed their disdain. Yet again, Galahad found himself judged on appearance alone and he bristled at the injustice.

"Guinevere!"

Arthur said her name as a plea, his anger replaced by a familiar fear that he was making matters worse in, what Merlin would no doubt say, was his usual ham-fisted way. A desperate idea formed in his mind that if he could separate his Guinevere from the strange goggle-eyed boy at her side, then there might be a chance they could to talk sensibly. He gently nudged his horse forward only to watch as Guinevere reacted in the most extraordinary way; turning her horse about and riding straight over the edge of the cliff, disappearing from his sight.

Gwen had embraced her desire to run and Serenity followed her instructions without question and leapt. The place where she and Arthur had met was just before the start of the town of Deawlisc and where the forbiddingly steep cliffs of red rock had given way to a steep wooded slope. What Gwen did not realise until it was too late was that the original slope had been fortified by earthworks and a sheer wall. This had been built to give the town more protection, ensuring it could only be accessed by the road that went by the castle.

After, what for Gwen seemed a heart stopping eternity, Serenity only just managed to make the gap. When the terrified horse landed she immediately started to slither down the slope, sending clods of earth and stones hurdling before her. Gwen clung onto the spooked horse's neck with grim determination as with each lurch the threat grew that she would be thrown to the ground. Serenity whinnied in distress, obviously keen to lose the extra weight of her mistress, which was now unsettling her as much as the steep and treacherous ground underneath her hooves.

Without hesitating for a second or checking if someone else intended to go to Gwen's aid, Galahad jumped from Cadfael as soon as his lady's horse disappeared from view. He made a somewhat foolhardy leap over the steep drop, landing heavily at the start of the natural slope. Then he tumbled a short distance until a tree trunk halted his descent and left him winded and gasping for breath.

Gwen was already half way down the slope, but Serenity was becoming more anxious with every passing moment, rearing up on her hind legs as a tree branch she careered into snapped back against her forelock. Gwen risked lifting her head from Serenity's neck in the hope an opportunity to get off her maddened horse might present itself. Luckily they were approaching a tree with an overhanging branch that with some effort Gwen thought she might just be able to reach. Just before Serenity passed under it, Gwen forced herself to let go of the reins, sit bolt upright and make a desperate lunge for the large branch. Then Gwen was left clinging on for dear life to the branch with her legs dangling in mid air, but relieved to be no longer hurtling at break neck speed down the slope.

Having recovered from his encounter with the tree with most of his dignity intact, Galahad started to edge his way down to Gwen, zigzagging around the trees, boulders and roots littering the area.

Meanwhile Gwen contemplated her actions as she clung to the tree branch. She was embarrassed by the recognition she had risked her life, and that of her horse and Galahad, all because she had a fit of pique over Arthur's angry outburst. Gwen was only just able crane her neck to peer back up to the top of the slope. There was Arthur staring back down her with concern written all over his face, while Sir Leon kept a firm grasp of the reins of his royal master's horse. The knight was obviously keen to stop Arthur from making a similar mad leap over the edge in an effort to rescue her.

"My lady, don't move!" Galahad shouted, frantically waving his arms at Gwen as he approached.

He ran over and started to climb the tree to come to her aid, and because he was wearing heavy chainmail, it was not the easiest of tasks. Gwen watched his laborious progress with resigned affection. It was obvious he was not going to give up until she had been saved from her perilous situation, even if his sword sheath kept getting in the way. With a sigh, she started to edge along the branch to meet him.

Waiting on a natural ledge made when two large boughs had split from the main tree trunk, Galahad put out a gloved hand and grabbed Gwen's purple travelling coat as soon as she was in reach. After she had steadied herself against the tree trunk, he then helped her make the leap across to join him on the ledge. From there, Gwen found it a simple task to climb down although it had been a long time since she had enjoyed the simple pleasure of tree climbing.

Once they were both safely on the ground, Gwen glanced back up to the top of the ridge and was just in time to see Arthur and his companions turn their horses back along the road that led to the castle and settlement of Deawlisc.

* * *

As Gwen walked with Galahad over to check on Serenity, she saw that a number of the residents from the nearby dwellings were standing in their open doorways, while a small group of children were plucking up courage to edge towards her horse. It seemed her unusual method of entering the community had caused a ruckus, not helped by the fact that a group of knights in striking red cloaks could be seen riding at speed along the high road towards the castle. Gwen was sure Arthur would not retreat inside the fortification, but would instead try once again to speak to her. The irrational urge to flee from a further confrontation was very strong so Gwen started to desperately scan the faces of the strangers peering at her.

Then she recognised a familiar face and as a wave of relief washed over her, Gwen smiled widely at Blythe. Her friend stood in a doorway with a toddler balanced on one hip and an older boy standing beside her. A few tendrils of Blythe's unruly mane of red curls had escaping from her head scarf and taller than most men, she was a woman, who it was difficult to ignore. She was dressed in dark blue plain wool dress a couple of sizes bigger than Gwen remembered, her figure much more matronly having birthed two children, but still unmistakably the same old Blythe.

Gwen and Blythe had not been natural friends; it was loosing their mothers in the same month that had first drawn the girls together, seeking comfort. The only difference being that Gwen's mother had died giving birth to Elyan while Blythe's mother had run away from an unhappy marriage. Both girls had suddenly inherited the role of woman of the house; having to tend to younger siblings and keep house for their fathers, while still children themselves. Blythe's father, Merfyn, had been a hard man, who was quick with his fists and Blythe was on the receiving end of his temper once her mother was no longer there to protect the children. That had been when Gwen first discovered that Blythe's aggressive bullying attitude hid a frightened and lonely girl and Blythe found out that underneath the good little girl façade was a strong willed and fearless soul. Gwen had walked straight up to Merfyn and ordered him to stop hitting Blythe or she would put her father onto him. After that Merfyn, who had been publicly shamed by a mere chit of a girl, lessened his drinking and rarely lashed out at his eldest child. Blythe had loved Gwen for her fearlessness from that moment on.

As they grew into women, Blythe found being so tall a prickly problem, and combined with a frizzy mop of red hair, she felt no man would ever look twice at her. So it had come as no surprise to Gwen that she had accepted the attentions of the first man to show such an interest. Periscus had travelled all the way from Greece, working his way north on the basis of his skill as a fisherman. From memory Gwen could picture Periscus as a slender young man, at least a head shorter than Blythe, with warm brown eyes, beautiful curly black hair and a winning smile. He had an easy charm and Blythe, who regularly bemoaned why she had not been born with Gwen's beauty and dainty figure, had leapt at the chance to land such a handsome and good natured husband.

For Blythe, standing in the doorway of her home, it took a little longer to realise the mysterious visitor, who seemed to have been conjured from thin air as if by magic, was her dear friend Gwen, but her bright smile was unmistakable. She could not help but be troubled though, as it was most unlike Gwen to turn up without any warning, and she was striding towards her with great urgency. Blythe gave little consideration to the lanky lad trailing nervously behind Gwen, leading a saddled mare, the third member of this strange party. Then a quick glance to her right added another piece to the tableau of bizarreness; knights wearing the red cloaks of Camelot were coming down the winding road that led into the town. This, Blythe was later ashamed to admit, made her wonder if her oldest and closest friend could have turned outlaw and be on the run. Yet, when it was obvious that Gwen did not intend to slow her pace until she had reached the safety offered by Blythe's home, rather than bar her entry, she grabbed hold of young Rhodri by the shoulders and quickly shooed him inside and out of Gwen's way.

This was not how Gwen had imagined their meeting and she was embarrassed by her rudeness. The altercation with Arthur had turned her world upside down and she was behaving like a mad woman. She could hardly believe that she had just barged into Blythe's home without first stopping to greet her friend. Once inside Gwen took in the simple home she found herself in; thick stone whitewashed walls with one small window to the right of the door and a large family bed and a table and chairs. The one luxury was a proper chimney built into a side wall with an open hearth with hooks for cooking. A peat fire was burning brightly helping to illuminate the gloom.

Galahad stood awkwardly in the open doorway, having to stoop because of his height and still holding Serenity's reins, uncertain of what the correct protocol was in this circumstance.

Gwen's first priority was to close the door of the cottage as a barrier against Arthur, so still ignoring Blythe, she addressed Galahad directly:

"Could you see to Serenity, Galahad, and then stand guard outside. If anyone asks, we are not to be disturbed."

Gwen was pleased that Galahad accepted her requests without question and went outside closing the door behind him. Then Gwen felt calmer although she knew it would be hard for the boy to stand his ground against Arthur, a man he obviously worshipped as the epitome of knighthood. What Gwen needed was time to pull herself together before she faced Arthur; a task not made easy by the complexity of the feelings coursing through her broken heart.

Waiting for Gwen to explain the reason for her visit, Blythe had taken up position at the window facing the sea; a small hole in the wall protected by cloth lined wooden shutters to keep out the worst of the sea winds. She was observing the knights as they gathered on a small patch of land on the other side of the road, unsuitable for building because it was littered with rocky outcrops. She rocked little Elin in her arms absentmindedly, as she watched through narrowed eyes, the man she thought of as 'that pompous royal whelp', direct his servant in setting up camp.

"My dear Blythe, I know I shouldn't have turned up like this, without any notice," Gwen said apologetically.

"Nonsense, you know I've always wanted you to visit. It's been so long, but I don't understand…"

Blythe trailed off unable to gather her thoughts sufficiently to put into words her surprise at having royalty on her doorstep, even if she had little time for the prince concerned.

"Honestly I had no idea Arthur would be here."

"Oh Gwen, you'd better not let 'His Royal Pain in the Posterior' catch you being so familiar. We lowlifes must always remember to address our _betters_ appropriately!"

Gwen could not help giggling at Blythe's comment. She had forgotten just how little respect her friend had for Arthur. When they both worked at the palace, Blythe had always been very scathing of his arrogance.

For a moment it felt like old times when they had snatched time to gossip and smile at the behaviour of the _noble_ lords and ladies. Then Gwen sobered, realising that the man she had come to know was nothing like the boy Blythe remembered. She felt it was only fair to make it clear that her view of Arthur had changed:

"A lot has happened since you left Camelot. Arthur is now King of Camelot for one."

Blythe got such a shock at that news she almost dropped little Elin, really she doubted this day couldn't be any more surprising.

"So why is the _King_ of Camelot setting up camp directly opposite my humble abode?!" Blythe exclaimed as she cuddled her now fretful child to her ample bosom.

Gwen reeled in shock, realising for the first time that all Blythe could see was the potential threat of a royal interest in her family and home. Gwen reacted immediately to put her friend's mind at rest, "You have nothing to fear, I can assure you that he means your family no harm. Arthur just wants to talk to me."

"Well…shouldn't you go talk to him then?" Blythe said, wondering why Gwen was making things so complicated.

"Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that."

"Oh Gwen, he's your king, so he has the power of life or death over you. Regardless of what I think of him and his kind, that is something you should not take lightly."

"Arthur is not like that. He's a kind man, who would give his life for his people; he will be a great king." Gwen said, as she rushed to defend the man she loved, without a second thought.

Suddenly Blythe understood Gwen's predicament; perhaps it was the fervent look on her face when she stood up for Arthur, but now everything slotted into place.

"And you love him with all your heart."

Gwen could feel tears start to form as she mutely nodded in response to her friend's statement.

"Well then, you'd better take a seat and tell me everything while I get started with supper."

* * *

Merlin had taken it upon himself to take charge of the magnificent horse owned by the young stranger. When he saw him outside the house where his friend had taken refuge, Merlin took the opportunity to the approach the boy and hand over the beast. The lanky lad in oversized chainmail had accepted the offered reins without a word of thanks and then waved Merlin away as if, as a servant, he was of no importance. Merlin knew he should be used to this behaviour by now; however, it was galling to be treated like that by someone so young.

"The boy's noble born from his manner," Gwaine commented to Merlin as he returned to what had temporarily become the Camelot side of the road.

"If rudeness is a mark of nobility," Merlin muttered in response. He had chores aplenty with horses to feed and brush down as well as firewood to collect before he could even think about preparing the evening meal. Meantime the rest of the party were wandering aimlessly around the campsite, all of them apparently eager to avoid eye contact with each other and more especially with Arthur.

Elyan had selected a boulder a small distance from the rest of the group and sat facing Blythe's house, his head resting in his hands. He was finding it as difficult as Arthur to understand Gwen's decision to run. Elyan watched the king stare forlornly at Blythe's house before he too found an outcrop of rock to lean against; his head and shoulders slumped forward in a perfect demonstration of dejection.

Elyan had never before seen such passion combined with anger on his sister's face. He had always remembered her as such a sweet tempered and forgiving girl, but then his memories were of the selective kind because of how long he had spent away from Camelot and his family. Thinking about his relationship with Gwen now, Elyan could recall times she had exhibited an amazing level of stubbornness and how his father would always laugh and say how much she reminded him of their mother. Elyan had no memory of his mother, but felt as though he had finally been given a glimpse of her legendary strength of will in Gwen's reaction and it left him at a loss as to how best to deal with the situation.

Having spent an age staring out to sea, Sir Leon plunked himself down next to Sir Perceval who had resorted to sharpening his sword for the lack of anything more exciting to pass the time. Leon nodded over at the boy guarding the fisherman's cottage," I'd wager even Merlin could take him on with one hand tied behind his back!"

Good natured, Perceval merely gave the lad a quick glance before returning to the task at hand.

Sir Gwaine on the other hand was keen to add his own observation, "That sword is far too heavy for such a gangly boy; the weight is more likely to tip him face first into the mud like a felled tree if he keeps on holding it out in front of him like that!"

He then used his hands to describe the action of a tree falling to the ground, causing much amusement among the knights.

It was obvious that Galahad had heard the comments because he drew himself up to his full height, digging his heels into the earth and after lifting up the tip of his sword from the soft ground, thrust it more forcefully back down in front of him again. Unfortunately, instead of the respect he craved, his actions only earned him another burst of mocking laughter from the knights of Camelot.

* * *

It was late afternoon and Merlin was returning to camp with a bundle of firewood in his arms as a group of knights from the castle were also approaching the makeshift camp on horseback with King Wilfred riding at the front.

Arthur roused himself from his bleak contemplation, as Wilfred dismounted and approached him with a wide grin on his rosy red plump face.

"Arthur, you and your men are welcome to return to my castle until matters are resolved," Wilfred announced. He then placed a paternal arm on Arthur's shoulder and drew him some distance away so that he could speak in private:

"If you'll take the advice of an older and more experienced man, I find that disagreements with the fairer sex are best resolved in the cool light of morning, after a good night's rest. Until then I'd be pleased if you would accept my hospitality."

"Thank you, your majesty. I and my men have enjoyed your generosity over the last two nights and although I accept the wisdom of your advice…"

"You wish to stay close to your lady love, is that right?" Wilfred enquired playfully slapping Arthur's back with such an excessive force it brought tears to the young man's eyes.

"I have to make sure I can get a chance to speak with her, to make amends for my mistake."

"I understand, I too remember the urgency of young love. The least I can do is make your night as comfortable as possible. I will have hot food and tents sent down from the castle."

"Your majesty is very kind; I appreciate your help and understanding."

"There's no need to be so formal my lad, we are both kings, and if we cannot speak to each other as equals there is something wrong with the world. Now be of good cheer, because I have no doubt all will be resolved soon. I can vouch that not even the most fickle of women can hold onto anger when presented with a heart felt apology."

Arthur was truly grateful for the concern of his fellow king, but he doubted that the Guinevere he had encountered on the road would so easily let go of the hurt he had caused her. Although, from where he stood his cause looked hopeless, Arthur had made himself a promise that he would make a concerted attempt to win her back. A night camped out by the sea would be much more pleasant under cover and tomorrow morning after some rest Guinevere might agree to see him. Arthur headed back to his knights after bidding King Wilfred a good night.

Suddenly Elyan sprung up from the boulder on which he had been sulking since they had arrived. Arthur watched in trepidation as he marched with intent towards Gwen's refuge.

Having come to a decision, Elyan had reacted immediately. Acting impulsively was a strong trait that had plighted his existence many times, but he was hardly in a mood to change the habits of a lifetime. Elyan confidently approached the lanky squire, who was wielding a sword that must have been borrowed from a much bigger and stronger man. Yet the squire still managed to lift the weapon and point it directly at his opponent with the appropriate menace.

"Don't mess with me, boy." Elyan growled threateningly.

"It would be wise not to underestimate my skill with a sword!"

"Likewise!" Elyan said, as he swiftly drew his sword from its sheath and let it slide against his opponent's blade in a blocking move. He ignored a warning yell from Arthur as he made a threat of his own. "Let me pass or I'll give you a lesson you won't forget in a while."

Galahad was about to perform a counter manoeuvre to free his sword when the door suddenly opened behind him.

Behind Galahad, the lady he was sworn to protect, hissed at the man he was trying to keep at bay, "Elyan, stop behaving like a prize donkey!"

"My lady; please close the door for your own safety." Galahad said, trying to regain some control over the situation.

The man called Elyan was regarding him with some amusement though Galahad could tell from the solid pressure being exerted on his sword arm he was a definite threat.

"Gwen, tell this idiot to let me in."

There was some hurried whispered discussion in the house as Galahad concentrated on not giving any ground to Elyan in their battle of wills. He then became aware that one of the occupants of the house was standing behind him.

"So the bad penny of a brother somehow got himself a red cloak and now thinks he can throw his weight around and issue orders! Well I'm interested to hear what you've got to say for yourself, so you have permission to enter _my _home."

"Great to see you too Blythe, you've not changed one bit, still got a tongue sharp enough to cut through tempered steel!"

Galahad felt somewhat superfluous while the exchange was going on around him. However he did manage to glean from the conversation that Gwen's brother was a knight of Camelot, another fact that she had neglected to tell him.

"Take care Sir Elyan, I will let you pass, but know this, I have killed two men in defence of my lady, your sister, so I deserve your respect."

"_Your lady?_ You heard Blythe, let me by boy!" Elyan ordered and as Galahad moved to one side, he continued under his breath so only the squire could hear, "Respect has to be earned, so tell me, was it an open fight or were they taken by surprise."

Galahad was not given time to reply to Elyan's taunt, but that was probably just as well, because then he would have had to own they had not been given the chance of a fair fight. Galahad pondered on that for awhile until he decided that as they had been outlaws he had not besmirched his honour.

After Elyan disappeared inside raised voices could be heard from the cottage, mainly from Elyan and Blythe. Occasionally Gwen managed to get in a word or two, but Galahad could tell that there was not much love lost between Gwen's friend and her brother. He tried not to listen, but could not avoid receiving an education in some rather choice language he would never have learned at his mother's knee. Then Gwen quietened them down and instigated a more reasoned discussion that he could be party to no longer. Instead Galahad's attention was diverted by Arthur, who had resorted to pacing back and forth along the far edge of the road, casting worried glances at the house. The king stayed firmly on his side as if conscious of Galahad's watchful gaze.

The door suddenly opened and Elyan barged past Galahad, knocking him off balance and had it not been for his sword firmly planted in the ground, Galahad would have been sent flying. As Gwen's brother stormed back to his boulder, Galahad felt a hand touch his arm and turned to see Gwen standing behind him.

"Thank you for all your help, today." She whispered softly as she offered him a bowl of steaming broth and some bread for his supper.

Galahad accepted the food gratefully, only then realising just how hungry he was. He was also handed a thick woollen blanket with a command to make himself as comfortable as he could, and then the door was shut and bolted behind him.

There was a low wooden bench beside the door and Galahad gratefully abandoned his post to sit down, placing his sword beside him on the bench to have it to hand if needed. He looked down at the watery broth and stirring it, made the distasteful discovery that the main ingredient was fish heads. They were complete with their glassy eyes, which seemed to stare dolefully back at him as the finery from the castle arrived.

The smell of newly roasted pork and beef was unmistakeable to the starving boy. He looked at the knights with envy as they fell upon the meat, which was the regular fare of the nobility. Galahad had spent too much time with the vegetable eating druids to take any pleasure from the fruit of the sea. He saw that Merlin had noticed his predicament and for a moment felt a glimmer of hope the servant might take pity on him and offer up a small portion of the riches. But all he got was a knowing smirk and sight of some meat on a fork before it disappeared into the mouth of the callous upstart. Behind the feasting knights, servants from the castle worked to put up several sturdy tents for the Camelot party.

All Galahad could do was eat his simple fare and as it got dark place his blanket on the small patch of grass by the bench. As he stretched out and wrapped himself in the blanket he tried to ignore the hilarity from across the road. Tomorrow was another day, he thought, and perhaps with the dawn there would be an opportunity for him to prove his worth to the King of Camelot. With that thought firmly planted in his mind, the boy fell asleep to dream of wearing a crimson cloak and vanquishing fire breathing dragons.


End file.
